


Runaways Running the Night

by Autumntouched



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Poetry, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Civil War, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 127,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumntouched/pseuds/Autumntouched
Summary: Anne and WD Wheeler have spent their entire lives running from their past, but Phillip Carlyle's love for Anne is about to make them confront it. Although Phillip believes love is enough for him and Anne to rewrite their stars, she knows there are greater forces that could tear them apart and leave each of them broken. As she learned long ago, sometimes you have to love someone enough to let them go. Set during the events of The Greatest Showman, Anne and Phillip try to navigate their love in a world where no matter what choices they make, there will be a price to pay.





	1. Everyone has an act

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite the Stars was on my Top 25 Most Played playlist before I even saw the movie so here is the world and story I imagined while listening to it all those times on repeat. Runaways Running the Night still follows the rough timeline and plot points of the film with some liberties. Hope you enjoy!  
> *Archive warnings may change

If you make him feel as if he need but pluck you from the air and you will be his, then you will have won the crowd by his desire and the others’ jealousy.

Or so Anne’s first trapeze teacher had taught her. “Open your face!” Tirza had yelled every time her protégé focused more on keeping herself in the air than on the crowd around her. “They didn’t pay to see you frown!”

It had been many years since she was under Tirza’s tutelage, but Anne Wheeler’s first lessons in the art of commanding the crowd stuck.

Face open, arm outstretched, fingers gracefully arched, she soared through the air. She was deaf to the gasps and applause below. “Distraction is death,” Tirza had always said with a grim smile.

Then her eyes met his.

He stood on the balcony, directly in her line of focus, his jaw slack. He withdrew his top hat as he stared at her like a man lost in a vision.

His crisp shirt, vest, and loose bow tie marked his wealth. Unusual among the crowd of laborers. He seemed neither embarrassed nor cautious of his awe as he took her in.

Then she was yanked away.

Anne forced him from her mind just in time to twine her wrists through WD’s and let her legs fall from the bar. Her brother’s grip was firm and familiar as they flew together until he tossed her back to her bar, concluding their act.

She swung back to her platform and stuck her landing in time to curtsy for the audience’s applause and whistles. A glance toward the balcony revealed that the man had disappeared.

Across the arena, WD rose from his bow. They exchanged a grin and a nod before shimmying down their respective ladders as the dancers flooded the arena. Charles rode out on his pony Marengo for a final round, firing blanks from his pistols and raising a cheer from the crowd.

Backstage, Anne unwound her hand grips, flexing the cramps out of her fingers as she made her way through the maze of chests and props toward the cool air at the stage door. Now that her act was done, her entire scalp seemed to have developed an itch beneath her wig. She could not wait to get it off but had to hold out until Barnum led the final bow. It was not unusual for him to rush backstage to call an act back to the arena for an encore.   

“You were off tonight,” commented WD when she arrived beside him in the relief of the fresh air, free of the reek of sweat and animals. Of course he would know. They had grown up in the circus and had been working together since her hands were big enough to grasp the trapeze bars. Even a breath off and he knew.

She made a show of carefully folding her grips. It was that man who had thrown her timing, the one in the tails. There were plenty of swells who snuck in among the usual crowds of the poor and middle class. Most avoided her eye contact. Those who did met her gaze with lust and brazen desire. This one was different. He had watched her as if stunned out of reason.

“It was a rich pretty boy,” she admitted with a shrug. “Guess he’d never been to a circus before. He forgot to hide his disdain.”

WD grinned. “None of them wants to be caught being entertained but they come again and again.”

“I suppose anyone would need a break from having a stick up their ass.” She glanced at him sidelong and was rewarded with a laugh.

Her brother rubbed his hands together. “It does feel good to know that, for a moment, they are in awe of us.”

Even out of the air, they were impressive. Both were tall, though that is where their resemblance stopped. Anne was willowy with limbs that belied her strength. Beneath her wig, she had long, wavy chestnut hair. Her large, almond shaped eyes gave way to a delicate, wide nose and full pink lips. In the summer months, her skin was a warm, honey complexion.

WD, who was six years older than she, was as handsome as she was beautiful with his high forehead set beneath thick, black, tightly curled hair, a wide nose, and full lips that often split into a grin to reveal straight, white teeth that contrasted against his dark skin. He had broad shoulders and muscled arms though the rest of him was lean. His eyes were nearly black but lit with mirth.

Despite their striking appearances, Anne understood her brother’s feeling. Not just the freedom and focus of flying but the immense power that coursed through them as they soared through the air, commanding the attention and approbation of those who would chase them from their table and turn them from their home. Unless they were serving them.

She smiled up at WD. “Sometimes I let myself think they’re always in awe of us, and we’ve just figured out a way to let them show it.”

He tweaked her nose. “Maybe you’re onto something there, Annie. But they won’t be enjoying us much longer if Mr. Barnum doesn’t get a little more regular with our pay.”

“At least he pays us everything he promised. Even if it isn’t always on time.” There had been many a circus manager who offered them wages to lure them into his ring only to renege on his word. They had once found themselves homeless and hungry when one manager refused to pay them for three months’ work.

Her brother sighed and rolled his shoulders as if to readjust some of the weight that the world had placed on them.

Behind the siblings, the audience roared and stamped with applause, announcing the end of the show. Anne allowed herself a brief scratch beneath her wig. “That’s it for the night. Let’s go!”

Eager to be out of her costume and wash up for the night, she retreated back into the building.

“WD! Anne!” she paused at the sound of her name. Barnum practically skipped toward them. He was dressed in his finest instead of the red and gold jacket he performed in.

And behind him was the rich pretty boy who had gaped at her from the balcony.

Anne froze at the intensity of his stare, suddenly conscious of her skimpy costume and bright pink hair. His eyes—brilliant blue—were more inquiring than rude but it still unsettled her. A white man had never looked at her with such open, honest, and unchecked admiration.

Perhaps she had been mistaken. Maybe he was not as swell as he was dressed. Her gaze dropped over him. He was of average height--in his shoes he was as tall as she was barefoot--and build with dark brown hair cut in the latest fashion. Nothing remarkable about him stood out except his eyelashes, which were almost ridiculously long.

Of course, Anne Wheeler could not have known that his was a face that had captivated and scorned far more women than it had admired. Nor would she have cared for the compliment.

Her employer looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to respond. Not a single one of his words had registered.

Focusing on his companion instead, she asked, “And what is your act?”

The young man looked startled. “I don’t have an act,” he stammered.

He did not seem particularly shrewd either. She wondered briefly what Barnum saw in him. If there was one thing the ringmaster had an eye for though, it was talent. She glanced at her employer who quickly hid his look of interest. And what is your game, she thought.

Anne arched an eyebrow. He would learn soon enough that in Barnum’s world, all the world was a stage. “Everybody has an act,” she warned and swept away before she could be drawn in further. Besides, her costume was itching.

She was already changed into street clothes when her brother threw back the curtain of their dressing area. His movements were jerky as he yanked off his vest. He had forgotten to draw the thin muslin partition that gave each of them their privacy.

She pulled it across for him as he undid the fastening of his breeches, wondering what had taken him so long.

“What’s wrong?” she murmured, standing close to the curtain.

“Nothing,” he grunted.

“I’m your sister so it’s stupid to lie to me.”

“Fine. Did you see the way that man was looking at you?” he growled.

She rolled her eyes though he could not see her. “A blind person could’ve seen it.”

“He has no right.”

“I don’t think he meant any harm by it. He’s probably just some gussed up farm boy who’s never seen a woman with pink hair.”

“Do you know who he is?”

Anne shook her head, surprised by her brother’s vehemence. “Phillip something or other.”

“He’s Phillip Carlyle of the Carlyle family.”

“Who’s that?” She did not concern herself with the who’s who of New York Society.

“His father owns a fifth of the buildings in this city and he himself is a show producer for the rich.”

“So what’s he doing here?”

“Barnum brought him on as a partner.”

“I guess that makes sense…” she trailed off, struck by another thought. “You didn’t threaten him, did you?”

WD was quiet on the other side. Anne ripped back the curtain not caring about his state of dress. “Did you?” she hissed, glaring at him. Although easy going by nature, he could have foolish lapses of temper that more than once had sent them scrambling in the night, fearful for his life.

“If I catch him looking at you like that again…”

“You let me deal with it,” she snapped.

Her brother yanked his suspender into place, refusing to meet her gaze. Anne marched up to him, drawing herself up to her full height. “WD look at me!”

His stormy glare met her defiant one in a battle of wills that she won when he turned and slammed his fist onto the table that held her mirror, makeup jars, and wig stand, making her things jump and rattle.  

“He has no right!” His voice cracked.

Aching for her brother, Anne moved to his side and gently laid her head on his shoulder. His muscles were hard and taut beneath her cheek and ear but relaxed as she ran her hand over his forearm.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, working against the knot in her throat. “It’s not any of our fault.”

His large, warm hand wrapped around hers. “You’re all I got left.”

Not for the first time, a fist gripped her heart, and she struggled to beat back the rising guilt within her, knowing that while she was his comfort, she was also the root of his pain. Sometimes she wondered where he found the strength to forgive her to love her so unconditionally, and it scared her to think that one day, that strength or forgiveness could give out. He was all she had ever had.

“You should get home, before it gets too late,” he said finally.

Anne rose onto her toes to kiss his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered.

He returned the kiss on her forehead. As if he knew she needed to hear it again, he promised, “I’ll always be here for you.”

“And I’ll be here for you.”

They bid one another goodnight, and Anne hurried to meet Octavia, Cecelia, and Lettie. The four women shared a room above a seamstress’s shop on Bleecker. Her companions chatted as they waited for the streetcar, hardly noticing as several nearly empty ones passed them by before they were finally allowed to board one.  

On their ride, the women continued to talk while Anne tugged her lip, anxious about her brother’s temper and Phillip Carlyle's intentions. Just as worrisome was Barnum's interest in their exchange. His ambition sometimes overran his scruples, and she was not so sure that he would not stoop to using her as leverage to keep his entré to New York society around. 

“You’re awful quiet,” observed Lettie as they stepped off the streetcar and made their way home.

Octavia chuckled. “You mean more quiet than usual?” She pulled her hat firmly over her shaved head against the fall chill.

“I have a lot on my mind is all,” Anne excused herself. She had spent most of her life around adults who cared more for her talent than for her thoughts. Many times, WD was the only one she could to talk to, and when they were growing up he had been baffled by so many of the things that came out her mouth that she had learned to keep them to herself.

Cecelia put her arm through Anne’s. Unlike many of the others who made up the circus, Cecelia came from a wealthy, educated family out west in Oklahoma. For a reason that she refused to speak of, she had run away from home at 20 and had been dancing since. She was also brilliant with numbers and to earn extra money, she worked as a bookkeeper. “You can tell us when you’re ready,” she said, more to head off the prying question on Lettie’s face and Octavia’s lips.

Anne squeezed her friend’s arm gratefully.

Lettie shrugged and took up the lead.

Left alone with her thoughts, Anne hoped that if Phillip Carlyle was to be a permanent fixture of the show, he would not cause any problems for her. Or WD. They had joined Barnum’s circus with the hope of finally staying in one place for awhile.


	2. Bursting with a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on a roll tonight. Please forgive any errors. I don't have a beta.

Indeed, it seemed as if Phillip Carlyle meant to stay. He was determined to understand exactly what he had invested in and was everywhere, learning every part that went into their production. Unlike Barnum, who often looked them over as a collector marvels at his baubles, Carlyle bothered with niceties. He also bothered to distribute their wages on time, which even WD grudgingly admitted was an improvement.

And Anne had to concede that he was far smarter than she first thought. Barnum had been right to bring him on. The younger man was analytical and strategic, balancing the ringmaster’s recklessness and proclivity for spur of the moment decisions.

For all she welcomed the stability he brought, she did her best to stay out of Carlyle's way, and fortunately, he did not go out of his to seek her out after their first meeting. There were times she thought she felt his gaze on her but his attention was always elsewhere when she looked in his direction.

From all she managed to gather about Phillip Carlyle among the show gossip and a few mentions in old newspapers, he was a successful playwright and producer, and a scion of one of New York’s wealthiest families. His father was a real estate tycoon and business partners with some of the country’s most successful giants of industries. According to the paper, the younger Carlyle was among society’s most sought after and elusive bachelors.

She also came across several reviews of his plays that suggested his views were cynical and disillusioned. Anne wondered how a man who had everything could be cynical. Then again, he had joined a circus. It seemed hard to imagine, but was being wealthy so tedious?

His work as a playwright fascinated her. Her first and only teacher, Miss Swann, had introduced her to plays and since then she had dreamed of going to the theater to see one for herself.   

***

In addition to trapeze, Tirza had taught Anne to read and write. Noting the young girl’s insatiable curiosity, her mentor and WD had provided her with books whenever they could. Still, Anne had dreamed of being able to attend school.

Her wish came true when she was thirteen. She and WD were working on a traveling circus near the border of Canada when he discovered that several of the laborers were drawing lots for his sister. Taking only what they could carry, the siblings fled immediately, hopping a train to New York City where they had hoped to find a man they knew through work on an earlier circus.

Instead they found themselves in a giant city roiling and violent in the wake of a series of draft riots. Every circus they approached refused to even permit WD to audition. Homeless and desperate for money, they had turned to a mutual aid society where at last they found relief. The society placed WD at a restaurant where for the first time he earned enough to support the two of them. And Anne had been able to go to school.

That was where she met Miss Swann. Anne loved her immediately. A petite woman with large kind eyes and a face that glowed as if touched by a permanent ray of sunshine, her stubborn chin was the only hint at how she kept firm command of her classroom without ever raising her voice above the volume of an intimate conversation.             

Delighted by her keen pupil’s eagerness to learn, and noting her love of reading, Miss Swann had taken the young girl under her wing, introducing her to plays, poetry, and literature. She loaned Anne works by Phyllis Wheatley, Harriet E. Wilson, Frederick Douglass, Charles Dickens, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Herman Melville from her own collection.

One afternoon, as a treat for her students, Miss Swann had recited several sonnets from _Astrophil and Stella_. Like the stars in the poems, her dark eyes had shone brightly as her gestures and rich voice brought to life the longing, adoration, and pain of Astrophil’s unrequited love. Her performance moved multiple children to tears and moans of anguish and left Anne breathless.

Although she doubted that any actress could be as beautiful as her teacher, Anne longed to see a full theatrical performance, to be transported so magically for hours instead of minutes. When she discovered that there was an entire theater district in the city, she began to walk uptown to linger in the park where she could watch the men and women dressed in their finest ascend the stairs of the playhouses.

The following year, the restaurant where WD worked closed. Her brother promised that he would find another job so that she could continue with school but the war had brought a flood of colored people to the city and employment was scarce. They auditioned again for the circuses. Again, they only wanted Anne. From a distance, she could pass. Both of them raged: WD because he could not give her the life he wanted her to have and Anne because she could walk where her brother could not follow. In the end, they needed the money. 

Even after Anne had to drop out of school to keep up with her work in the circus, Miss Swann invited her to a weekly Saturday tea with a few other girls where they could discuss books and get extra help on lessons. These teas were some of the brightest spots in Anne’s childhood and had only stopped when she and WD left the city, which had turned hostile toward its colored population, to find better work on the road.

***

A part of her longed to ask Carlyle what it was like not just to attend plays but to write things that other people saw, wrote about, and discussed. Never in her life had she dreamed of crossing paths with someone who not only frequented but filled the playhouses she had only been able to admire from afar.

Well aware of her curiosity and long held dream, WD cautioned her to be careful. Men like Carlyle expected everything they desired and had the means to take it. She should not encourage his attention.

“I am not a fool,” Anne sighed when he reminded her for the thousandth time.

He was quiet for a long time. “I know,” he said finally. She knew he was thinking of their mother. Of late, she had noticed her brother’s unusual restlessness and quiet. He was worried for her. She squeezed his hand and promised to be careful.

But she returned to her old habit of lingering in the theater district. It was a way to avoid spending time at the circus anyway.

On a whim one afternoon, Anne went to the boarding house where Miss Swann had lived. An elderly woman answered the door. Her thick hair had gone white and her dark pupils were rimmed with blue, but her reddish-brown skin looked as supple as it had the last time Anne had seen her eight years before.

“Mrs. Alston! How do you do?"

"May I help you, young lady?"

"Do you remember me? I'm Anne Wheeler. I used to visit with one of your boarders, Miss Swann.”

The woman’s eyebrows knit for a moment and then recognition dawned on her face. “Anne, the little circus girl. But you’ve grown,” she chuckled. “Come in.”

Grateful that the woman recognized her, Anne followed Mrs. Alston inside. The boarding home was as she remembered with a hallway that stretched beyond the stairwell in the entryway. To the left was a small parlor, decorated with plain but neat furniture. Beautifully embroidered pillows and potted plants livened the space. The dining room on the right with the long, scrubbed table and delicate lace tablecloth was where Mrs. Alston had served Miss Swann and her students tea and cookies each Saturday. For each girl’s birthday, their teacher had baked a cake that Mrs. Alston served on her crystal cake stand. It never failed to impress the girls as most had never seen anything so fine.

Anne smiled at the memory. Neither she nor her brother knew their birthdays but in that room, she had picked a day based on WD's recollection that she was born in the middle of the harvesting season when all the leaves had turned colors but not yet abandoned their trees.

Today, Mrs. Alston led her into the parlor after offering refreshments, which Anne declined. She waited for her hostess to be seated before perching on the edge of an armchair.

After exchanging pleasantries, Anne revealed the nature of her trip.

“I have not heard from Eva in several years,” Mrs. Alston said regretfully. “She married a pharmacist from Philadelphia, you know. Maybe two years after you left. She moved there with him. A nice fellow by the name of James Blake.”

Anne tried not to let her disappointment show. She could hardly expect her teacher to be in the same place after eight years.

“I have a Philadelphia address for her,” the matron offered kindly. “Perhaps she only fell out of touch. I will give it to you before you leave.”

Grateful for even a lead, Anne thanked her profusely. Mrs. Alston waved it away. “And what about you, dearie? A beautiful woman like you not married? You’re not still jumping through hoops, are you?” Anne did not take the woman’s hint of disapproval personally. Even she could admit that the circus was hardly a place for a child. But there were worse fates for children without parents. 

“I am. My brother and I joined Barnum’s Circus.” Seeing the dark look that passed over the woman’s face, Anne hurried on, “It pays well, and we’re treated decently. I am able to room with some of the other women who are part of the show.”

Mrs. Alston shook her head, unconvinced. “I always thought you were so smart, Anne. Why not become a teacher? Or even a writer. I liked the things you used to write.”

The compliment warmed Anne’s cheeks. “That’s very kind of you, thank you, but those months that I spent with Miss Swann were the extent of my learning. Although a friend of mine is teaching me to figure now.”

“That’s good. You never know what skills you will need.” The woman spoke from experience as the widow of a very successful doctor and community leader. Her husband’s untimely death had left her with children to raise and no income, which led to her converting her home into a boarding house.

A thoughtful look crossed the older woman’s face. “I have a few friends whose sons are doing well for themselves and yet to be married. Perhaps I could introduce you. As beautiful and smart as you are, you could be married in a month.”

Anne held back a laugh, not wanting to be rude. “I am sure my brother would be most appreciative, but I am happy as I am for now.” Not to mention she would make a terrible wife for any of the men Mrs. Alston probably had in mind. They would expect her to be able to cook and sew, or know how to run a household and entertain guests. What refinement she had had been learned from books and her teas with Miss Swann. She could not imagine either of those would get her very far.

Mrs. Alston reached out and patted her hand. “Please consider it.”

Out of politeness, Anne promised that she would. They visited for a bit longer before she left, her former teacher’s possible address in hand.

Stepping outside, she realized she had stayed much longer than she ought to and was running late to get to the circus. She hurried to the nearest streetcar stop a few blocks away and felt a surge of relief to see one coming down the street.

Her foot was on the stairs to board when the conductor squinted at her. “‘Car’s full,” he told her.

Surprised, Anne looked through the windows. The back was certainly crowded but there was still plenty of space in front.

She looked back at the man standing over her and saw that beneath his beard, his face had turned hard, as if daring her to argue.

Forcing her eyes wide, Anne exclaimed, “Sir, I’m running late to get uptown. Surely, there is enough space…”

“It’s full. Get off.”

Dropping the innocent act, she stepped up so that she was entirely on the platform. Any other day, she would have got off and waited for the next one. But she was running late and would not make it if she waited for the next car. Taking a deep breath, she said evenly, “There is enough space for me. Therefore it is my right to board. Here’s my fare.”

She held out her hand with the coins. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Sweat broke out under her collar, but she did not waver.

“Keep it,” he snarled. “You’re not getting on.”

Later, she would not be sure what possessed her. Anne set the money down on the ledge and made to step into the car. She was almost around the conductor when he grabbed her by the hair and yanked it back so hard that her feet left the floor. Several people screamed as his hand collided with her face in an explosion of pain. Black dots burst across her vision as she tumbled down onto the street. She barely managed to drag herself out of the way before the conductor slapped the horses into motion and the streetcar sped off.

Hands gripped her her shoulders, lifting her into a sitting position. Anne coughed and choked on the blood pouring from her nose.

Voices buzzed around her, indistinguishable through the ringing her ears. Cool fingers brushed her face, and then someone gently pressed cloth to her nose to stem the bleeding. It was a few more moments before she began to understand what was going on around her.

Her vision cleared and a woman came into focus before her. It was the woman's shawl that was soaking up Anne’s blood.

Speaking with a lilt in her voice, she warned, “Shhh, don’t try to talk lass.”     

Anne discovered that she was leaned against the thigh of one of the shopkeepers on the street. He propped her up with gentle hands. Everything above Anne’s shoulders ached.

“That was fair foolish of you,” tutted the woman. With crows feet around her eyes, firm lines framing her mouth, and wisps of gray in her blond hair, she looked to be old enough to have a few children. She certainly spoke in a mother's soothing yet scolding tone.

Anne hurt too much to even nod her agreement. Nearby bells tolled marking the hour, reminding her of why she had been in such a hurry.

Fortunately, the shawl muffled her curse.

Weakly, she pushed the woman’s hand away from her face. The worst of the bleeding was over. “I’m late,” she croaked. “I have to go.”

“Let’s see if you can stand,” rumbled the shopkeeper. Placing his hands underneath her arms, he slowly helped her to her feet.

Anne swayed until the woman steadied her. For the moment, it hurt too much for her to look down so she mentally took stock of herself. Her throat was clogged and sticky with blood. The explosive pain in her head had given way to a dull throbbing. At least she could see clearly again.

“When you’re ready, there is a young man with a wagon who can take you home,” the man helping her explained.

“Thank you,” Anne said thickly. She pulled her purse from her waist discovering that her hands had been scraped in the fall. Offering it to the woman, she hoped that its contents could help replace her ruined shawl.

The kind woman shook her head. “It was old anyway. A promise not to be so foolish again will be enough for me.”

Anne appreciated her rescuer’s sense of humor. “It hurts enough that I’m sure I’ll remember this lesson for a long time.”

When they were certain that she would be fine, the shopkeeper lifted her into the bed of the waiting wagon. She told the driver where to take her, then pulled her knees up and buried her face in her skirts.

Every jolt and shake of the wagon punched at her pain. Thanks to her stupidity, she was in no condition to perform that night. God willing, she would be recovered within a few days. Barnum certainly was not going to be happy. Sales had slowed, and her act was one of the biggest draws.

She was not sure how long had passed or how close they were to the circus when she thought she heard someone call out her name.

“Anne!”

Carefully lifting her head, she looked straight into Phillip Carlyle’s horrified face. He was hanging out of a hansom cab, most likely also on his way to work. As soon as he was sure it was her, he shouted for his cab to wait and hopped to ground.   

“You know him, Miss?” asked the young man on the wagon bench.

She nodded her head and immediately regretted it.

“What happened?” Carlyle demanded, jumping up on the wagon step.

Before she could reply, the boy answered for her. “Conductor knocked her off the streetcar, sir.”

Anne could not see Carlyle’s face because, against her weak protests, he had pulled her to his chest and lifted her off the wagon. But she felt his shoulders tense beneath her head.

“Pull up to the curb at the next block,” he ordered the young man.

Angry shouts filled the air, and she realized they had stopped in the middle of the street.

Carefully, he settled her in his cab before promising to return shortly.

For a moment, Anne thought to be embarrassed about her latest predicament. Phillip Carlyle was the last person she wanted to see her in the state she was in and even worse to be the one to take care of her. She had been hoping to slip in through the back door and have most of her hurts taken care of before she saw even her brother. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Still, she dreaded facing him when he came back.

Before climbing back into the hansom, Carlyle instructed the driver to slow his speed.

“I was perfectly fine in the wagon,” she rasped when he was settled.

He rolled his eyes. “A simple ‘thank you’ works too. Besides, this ride is smoother.”

She could not argue with that. Her head was definitely grateful.

“May I?” He held his hand just beyond her face.

“Kind of you to ask at last,” she said with a smile.

He shook his head. “Are you normally so difficult or shall we mark it up to the circumstances?” His fingers were gentle yet firm as he felt along her nose. “It’s not broken,” he announced after his brief examination.

“That’s something.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “My cousin cries if someone so much as pinches her.”

“She must not be a trapeze artist then.” Anne could not keep some of the smugness out of her reply.

Carlyle laughed. “You have that and many more things on her.” Before she could ask what those many more things were, his tone sobered. “As soon as we get to the circus, I’m summoning the police. We’ll go to the streetcar offices when they open tomorrow to file a report.”

Anne flew up. “Please don’t. It won’t help anything.”

He frowned. “Of course it will. We will report the conductor, and he’ll be fired and hopefully fined or jailed.”

“No! I've already caused enough trouble as it is.”

The man gaped at her. “Caused enough trouble? Anne, Nathan told me what happened! That man assaulted you.”

“I should have listened to him. I shouldn’t have gotten on.”

His voice grew impatient now. “No matter what you did, he had no right to raise a hand to you. He deserves consequences. Look at you!”

“It doesn’t matter. It won’t make a difference! The police won’t believe anything I say.”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous! Anne what’s the matter with you?”

To her horror, she began to cry. “Whose word do you think they’re going to take--some uppity colored girl’s or a conductor’s?”

Now Carlyle looked absolutely flabbergasted. “Yours, of course.”

“So you don’t believe me.”

“Of course I believe you. Even if I didn't know you, there's blood all over your coat and your face is swollen and bruising. We'll need to get you some raw meat to put on it as soon as possible."

Vaguely, she realized that this was the longest exchange she had ever had with Carlyle, and it was not going well. More pressingly, she charged on trying to dissuade him from summoning the police. "But you don't believe that they won't take my word for it?"

"I,” he fumbled, “I can’t believe that they won’t do anything about it. We're calling the police. Then, then we'll figure out what to do next.”

Angry burning tears rolled down her cheeks. Hesitantly, Carlyle placed his hand on her shoulder. It was meant to comfort her, but it hurt almost more than her face did.  


	3. Another round of bullets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you for all of your generous and encouraging comments!! I love hearing your thoughts. I also love writing this for you guys (and for me), so getting you chapters as quick as I can. In that vein, I may not continue to respond to every single comment but please know they are all read, considered, and appreciated. Maybe time for AO3 to allow us to kudos comments...? 
> 
> Someone mentioned Anne may be a little out of character. I'm definitely going to test her boundaries, but I'll try not to do anything too egregious. Poor woman is dealing with a lot, but she's not quite ready to talk about it. Phillip on the other hand...
> 
> Well, it's about time we met Phillip, isn't it?

An argument was in full swing backstage by the time Carlyle and Anne arrived at the circus. Raised voices reached them from the stage door.

“She never told us where she was going!” Cecelia was shouting. 

“And none of you cared enough to wait for her?” WD shot back. 

“That is entirely unfair. It’s about time you woke up and realized that you are not the only one who loves Anne! Besides, pointing fingers isn’t helping find her.”

The oddities and dancers were clustered around Barnum, Anne’s brother, and three roommates. WD and Cecelia looked close to coming to blows. Although a head shorter, Cecelia did not seem at all intimidated by her opponent’s imposing height. In fact, Lettie’s thick arm rested over her shoulders as if to hold her in check.hen  


“We thought she would come here,” added Lettie. 

“Well she’s late and unaccounted for,” put in Barnum. 

“Which isn’t like her,” Cecelia interrupted. “Someone has to go find…” she whirled when someone pointed. “Anne!” she cried. 

There were gasps and hisses of sympathy as Anne and Carlyle moved into the light. He had insisted on taking her elbow upon emerging from the hansom. At first she protested, but he told her firmly that he was not taking a chance on anymore falls for her that day. Anne regretted giving in now; it made her condition appear far worse than it was. 

However, even without Carlyle’s support, she looked the worse for wear. Her long hair tumbled loose and disheveled over her shoulders. The entire left side of her face was swollen, blood was smeared across her cheeks and chin and stained her beige coat. Her petticoat had cushioned her fall some, but she was limping on the side she had landed on. 

“Anne! Who did this?” demanded WD, sprinting to her. 

Cecelia and Lettie were right behind him. “What happened?” 

The crowd shifted toward them, and Anne turned slightly into Carlyle. “Give her some space,” he ordered, putting up his free hand 

“Who did this?” WD asked again, reaching out to tilt her face up to the light. His eyes were hard and dangerous. 

“It was an accident,” she croaked. 

“Someone left their hand print on your face by accident?” snorted Lettie, ever disbelieving. 

“Anne, who did this?” Barnum demanded. She looked toward his voice. His lips were a thin line, his brows lowered over his intense hazel eyes. 

Well everyone would have known soon enough anyway. 

“I tried to board a streetcar, and the conductor knocked me off.” She swallowed the bitter taste of humiliation in her mouth and stared up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry again. 

“What does he look like?” WD was already pushing up his sleeves, spoiling for a fight.   


“I know where the conductors drink,” Constantine volunteered, his many tattoos bristling. 

Anne glared at her brother. “Don’t be an idiot, WD. You’re not going to fight a whole tavern.” 

“Not by himself,” Alec growled through the sweeps of hair that framed his mouth. His dark eyes gleamed, eager for a brawl. The throbbing in her head only grew worse as more of the oddities and dancers threw in their support. Was there not a  _ single _ man who knew when to leave things alone?

Just as she opened her mouth to curse their hotheadedness--after all, that was how she had ended up in this mess in the first place--Barnum pounded his cane into the floor. “Hey!” His voice cut through and silenced theirs. 

“If I catch wind of anyone in this circus starting a fight over this, he’s fired! You hear?” He looked each of them in the eye, especially WD. Her brother glared back for a moment, and Anne prayed he would not choose this moment to be rash. 

Barnum slammed his cane into the ground again. “Do you hear me?” WD dropped his gaze. 

Some of the men, and even the women, looked mutinous but the ringmaster had their attention. “Any of you fools stop to think that if the lot of you get hurt, we don’t have a show and no show means no money? It’s bad enough we’re down an act right now with Anne hurt.” 

“We’re reporting it to the police,” Carlyle spoke up. “Tonight.” 

“Bunch of good that’ll do,” someone grumbled. 

Anne could feel WD shaking beside her. She rested a hand on his arm. “I don’t remember his face,” she told him quietly. “I can’t have you beating up every conductor you come across who’s taller than me.” 

“Then what do you expect the police to do?” 

She shrugged. “Nothing.” 

Carlyle interjected. “There are ways of finding and dealing with thugs like him.” The dark edge in his voice startled even WD out of his fit of anger. He looked at the man with a margin of respect, and then returned to his scowl. “Legally, I mean,” Carlyle amended when Barnum crossed his arms.    


With a curt nod, the ringmaster cleared his throat purposefully. “Fine then. But we still have a show to perform. WD, Phillip, look after Anne. Everyone else, I want you in your places and ready to go in five. Dancers I hope you have that new routine memorized because you’re doing it tonight. Lettie add another song to your set.”

He strode toward the entry to the arena, continuing to bark out orders and changes as everyone scrambled to get in position.

Carlyle handed her to WD. “Take her to my office. I’ll send someone to get the police.”

Finally left alone, her brother gently cupped her face in his hands. The pads of his palms were rough and comforting against her skin. “You had me so scared,” he confessed. 

Anne wrapped her hands around his. “I know. I’m sorry.”   


“Are you okay?” Feather light, he ran his thumb over the left side of her face. It only stung a little. 

“Yes,” she promised. “I’ll be back to normal in a few days.” 

WD grinned and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You’re supposed to leave the trouble-making to me,” he joked as they made their way up to Carlyle’s office. 

“It’s all yours. But,” she shrugged, trying to find the words to explain herself and coming up short. “I hate when people lie. He said the streetcar was full, and it wasn’t.” 

“Well alright Miss Thomas Downing,” her brother chuckled. “But next time tell me so I can show up to push you.”

Anne laughed in the circle of his arm and was rewarded with his brilliant grin. Thomas Downing had still been the talk of the town when they first arrived in the city eight years before. A wealthy colored man who owned an oyster cellar, he had served oysters to the likes of Queen Victoria and Charles Dickens. But none of that had kept the Sixth Avenue Line streetcar from denying him service and then throwing him off when he refused to budge. Downing had sued the line and lost, so he published an ad in every colored paper in New York City calling for volunteers. On the appointed day, he arrived in his finest and demanded to ride the line, telling the driver that he had already been pushed off once and found his way back. Drag him off again, and he would keep coming back. When the driver refused to go, a cheer went up from the volunteers, and they had pushed the streetcar up the line. 

Thinking it a parade, bystanders soon began to join in. Legend had it that the scene became so chaotic and celebratory that several policemen, believing that the streetcar was merely broken down, joined in to push as well. Humiliated by first the man’s lawsuit and then his procession, the Sixth Avenue Line had desegregated their cars. 

“My plan wasn’t so grand,” she protested. “I just wanted to get here on time.” 

“Where were you?” 

“I went to the boarding house where my teacher Miss Swann used to stay. I wanted to see if I could find her.” 

“Any luck?” 

“Just a possible address.” 

They let themselves into Carlyle’s office. It was small, only large enough for a writing desk, its chair, and two additional seats for guests. 

Despite her jacket, Anne shivered in the chilled room. WD settled her in one of the seats, lit the lamps, and knelt to light the logs in the fireplace.

A decent fire was going by the time Carlyle, accompanied by two men in crisp blue uniforms, arrived. Both officers looked surprised and then confused to see her and WD there. 

“Good evening, sirs,” WD said stiffly. “I was just making sure she was warm before I stepped outside.” 

Anne wanted to beg him not to leave her alone, but there really was not space for all of them. He smiled at her reassuringly before he closed the door behind him. Despite the growing warmth of the room, she clutched her jacket to her. 

“Anne,” Carlyle said, drawing her attention from her brother, “these are Lieutenants Connell and Dregers. Lieutenants, Miss Wheeler is the woman who was assaulted by the streetcar conductor this afternoon.” 

An awkward silence followed before the one named as Connell spoke. The lieutenant was a stocky man in his mid-forties with flecks of gray in his thick, dark hair and beard. 

“You told us she was hit by a streetcar conductor. Do you know which line?” He spoke directly to Carlyle, who looked to Anne. 

She told them.

“Are you sure that was the line?” Again the man refused to acknowledge her. 

“That’s what she said, isn’t it?” Carlyle replied impatiently. 

Connell’s eyes darted to Anne and then back to him. “I need your confirmation, sir.” 

“My confirmation--yes, then, that was the line.” 

“I’m sorry I have to ask, but you’re sure?” Carlyle looked between Connell and the Dregers, who was tall with thinning blond hair and a round stomach, as if he could not believe what he was hearing. Neither officer let on that he was anything but serious. 

Anne curled her fists into her skirt. 

“I wasn’t there but if she says,” he started. He seemed entirely caught off guard by this line of questioning. 

Connell cut him off hurriedly. “So you cannot say for sure she was anywhere near a streetcar?” 

Carlyle’s cheeks flushed in anger, and he rapped his knuckles on the desk. “This is preposterous! Where else would she have been? Don’t you see the marks on her face? The blood?”

Lieutenant Dregers inclined his head. “She probably made up a story to hide from you that she was in a fight. It happens quite frequently,” he said kindly, as if mentioning something that had been dropped without its owner’s notice. 

Phillip Carlyle’s jaw clenched so tightly Anne was sure she could hear his teeth grinding from where she sat. He made an impressive figure when he was angry with his back rigid, shoulders straight, fingers splayed and steepled on his desk. 

“If she says she was assaulted by a conductor, then that is what happened,” he ground out. 

“I was not in a fight this afternoon, Lieutenants,” Anne told them, careful to keep her voice light and even. “There are witnesses who can tell you the truth of my story.” She gave them the address of the shopkeeper who had helped her. They did not bother to write it down. 

Connell’s lip curled, but he continued his begrudging line of questioning. “If she was boarding a streetcar, then what time did it happen?” 

The knuckles of Carlyle’s fist were white. Anne was certain he had never experienced such disrespect in his life. She, on the other hand, was all too familiar with it. 

She rose to her feet. What was the point in continuing this humiliating charade when it was clear these men intended to do nothing about her case? Besides, any conductor they questioned would deny it, and they would readily accept his word. 

Carlyle held up his hand to stop her. “Sit down, Anne.” She dropped back into the seat at his tone. “Please,” he added as if remembering himself. 

Then he rounded on the two officers. He was only slightly taller than Connell and a hand shorter than Dregers, but they seemed to shrink before him. 

“I summoned you here to right an egregious wrong done to this woman. She sits before you covered in her own blood with a man’s hand print emblazoned on her cheek, and you dare to add insult to her injury by questioning her integrity and character? You have treated her without even a modicum of the respect or sympathy due her. She may have the grace to ignore your willful disrespect, but I will not tolerate another moment of it. Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the Carlyle name but be warned that I need barely lift a finger to squash whatever hopes you have for your career. So I suggest that you do your job, and that you do it to the utmost of your abilities.”

The room was deadly silent. Both men had blanched, whether in fear, anger, or a combination of both Anne could not tell. 

“Do I make myself clear?” snapped Carlyle. 

“Very,” Connell’s voice cracked, and he was forced to clear his throat. “Very, sir,” he finished hurriedly. 

Dregers did not even venture to speak, only nod his head. Beads of sweat had broken out along his sideburns. The room felt like the fire had leapt from its grate and was consuming all of them.

“Very good. Now I recommend you write down the address Miss Wheeler gave you for the shopkeeper.” He turned to her as Connell scrambled for a notebook and pencil inside his coat. 

“If you don’t mind repeating it for their records, Anne,” he said gently, as if he had not just threatened to personally ruin two men’s livelihoods on her behalf. “And then tell them what happened, in your own words.”  

Swallowing back the ugly taste in her mouth, she gave Connell the address again. “It happened just before four this evening. The streetcar arrived. The conductor said it was full, though it wasn’t, and refused to let me board,” she spoke quickly, wanting this interview to be over as much as the officers did. “When I tried to proceed into the car, he pulled me by the hair, slapped me across the face, and shoved me off the streetcar.” 

Connell stared past her head when he asked the next question. “Did you see its number?” 

“It was 9, sir.” 

“Anything you remember about the conductor?”

“He was taller than me. With a beard. His hair was brown.” 

Connell noted all of this, glancing at Carlyle out of the corner of his eye. 

“Anything else that you remember?” 

“No. That is everything.” 

“Very well, er, Miss Wheeler. We will look into the matter.” 

“I want a report no later than noon tomorrow,” Carlyle said icily. “And I expect progress.”

Dregers’ eyebrows flew up. “Noon is,” he grunted as a not so subtle elbow from his partner rammed into his gut. 

Carlyle raised a dark eyebrow. “Might I suggest an early start then. Gentlemen.” He swept his arm to the door. “I will show you out.” 

“It’s no trouble,” Connell said stiffly. “We can find our own way.” 

Carlyle opened his mouth to protest, but Anne said smoothly, “If my brother is waiting outside, as I suspect he is, he can show you the door. Mr. Barnum would not like it if you wandered into the ring by mistake.” 

For a moment, Connell looked torn between risking Carlyle insisting that he show them out and Anne’s offer. Then he jerked his head at her. “Thank you. Miss Wheeler.”

Her suspicions were confirmed when Carlyle pulled the door open. WD's face was carefully blank. After Carlyle's reprimand, she doubted Connell and Dregers would dare take their anger out on WD. He would be perfectly safe escorting them.  


The officers bid them good night and departed down the walkway after her brother. 

She and Carlyle remained frozen. The tension was so tight between them that Anne was almost sure she heard it snap when he finally spoke. 

“I’m so sorry that they treated you that way. It was inexcusable! If I had known…” Something in her face made him trail off.  

“Perhaps next time,  _ you _ will respect me enough to listen to me.” Her tone was dangerously soft as she struggled to hold onto her fury. He had only meant to help, she tried to remind herself. 

His eyes widened in surprise. “I’m on your side, Anne.” 

One of her eyebrows arched. “On my side? You just humiliated me.” 

“Fine. I’m sorry that it didn’t go the way I thought. But that’s fixed, and they will catch the man who did this to you. Isn’t that what matters? Justice?” 

It was the wrong thing to say. “Justice?” she yelled, her rage exploding so wildly it caught both of them off guard. “You call using your family name to strong arm them justice? Threatening their livelihoods and future without a thought to their well-being or their loved-ones’ to bend their will to yours is justice?”

Carlyle’s face flushed. “I used my family’s name to protect you!” 

“Excuse me for failing to show my gratitude then. I didn’t realize I needed a name to be worthy of protection.” 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he snarled. “You’ve blown this out of proportion.”

“How have I blown this out of proportion when the abuse of power to satisfy a whim, the determination of one’s worthiness based on name and status are the root cause of what happened today?” 

“So you just want me to stand by seeing you hurt and do nothing about it? Even if I have the means to do so? I can’t help who my family is but if I’m fortunate enough to be able to make sure this man face the consequences for his actions, why shouldn’t I use whatever means I have?”

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Then may your heart always be so pure.” 

With that she turned on her heel and marched out of his office. Carlyle slammed the door after her.

\----

Phillip went to his liquor cabinet in the corner and yanked out a bottle of whiskey. He unscrewed the top and for a moment considered pouring himself a glass. Then he put the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. 

Warmth spread through him and soothed the fire of his fight. He set the liquor down, far from done with it. 

Anne Wheeler was a piece of work. An Atalanta who had unwittingly wreaked havoc on his heart from the moment he saw her. He took another hard swig. Even as she stood against him tonight, soundly rejecting everything he offered her, he could not help but admire her fierce intelligence and sense of pride. Dare he say it? A part of him enjoyed arguing with her. 

Certainly she had hurt his pride but his anger evaporated before the door had even banged closed. Some gentleman he was. 

Still, he knew from watching Anne for so long that it was best to leave her alone once you made the mistake of upsetting her. When she cooled off, she would return to apologize if she felt she had said anything unfair. If she deemed her words honest, well, that was for your consideration, not hers.     


All the comportment lessons in the world could not give many women what Anne possessed so effortlessly and in abundance. He smiled ironically. Society believed him immune to women. His disinterest maddened his aunt to no end in all of her matchmaking schemes. How utterly disappointed they would all be to discover how easily and hopelessly he had fallen for a colored woman. 

Disappointed might be an understatement, he amended, taking another long pull from his bottle and savoring the warmth that flooded his chest and stomach. 

His amusement at their expense faded. Really, he was no better than they were. He had gone on about justice to Anne tonight, but she was right to scorn him. What did he know of fighting for justice? Unless it was convenient for him, he had always let others fight the real battles.  


He had just started at Princeton University when the Civil War broke out. Terrified that he would enlist against her wishes, his mother arrived in the middle of the night to have his things packed. A week later they were on a boat to England. At her insistence, he enrolled at the University of Oxford and spent the war safely ensconced in one of the colleges there. True, he had not known until after the war that his parents paid a young man to take his place in the draft. They did not even bother to remember the young man's name or what he looked like. 

Phillip took another drink to numb the edge of the memory. 

May your heart always be so pure, she had said. Anne certainly knew how to have a last word. 

What was it about Barnum and Anne that allowed them to see right through him? Facades and deflections that had fooled so many others had no effect on them. 

Perhaps it was because they had both grown up as orphans, surviving by their smarts. Barnum was four when his mother died of cholera and twelve when his father died. He did not mention his childhood much except when he talked about Charity. He only revealed that his father was a tailor to explain how he managed to sew half of their costumes himself.

However, Anne and WD were silent about their past, even among their friends. No one had ever heard Anne speak of her mother or father. Lettie confided that she was not sure Anne even knew who her parents were or where she was from. He had suggested that perhaps her first trainer was her mother but Lettie did not think so. When pressed, she reluctantly admitted that something WD once said suggested that their mother had left them. It also explained his almost parental protectiveness of her. 

“How could their mother abandon them?” he had demanded indignantly. They were sitting in a quieter corner of the tavern where the performers and crew often gathered after their last performance of the week. At the moment, Anne and Sean, one of the dancers with tattoos across his neck and face to hide two large birthmarks, had been going head to head in a dance that had the music flying to keep up with their feet. 

Anne’s heart shaped face, framed by escaped curls, glowed with laughter. “WD,” she cried breathlessly above the noise of the music, cheering, and stomping. Her brother was laughingly shoved out of the crowd to her side and in a moment the two of them were a synchronized pair, their movements from their fingers to their toes perfectly matched as they danced. 

Lettie had shrugged. “Most of us guess they were runaway slaves.”

“Slaves?” he had choked, at last turning away from watching Anne.   


“Don’t be so precious. It makes sense.”

That was as much as anyone had ever said on the topic. Among the show people, Cecelia was Anne’s closest friend. But if she knew Anne’s secrets, she guarded them as closely as her own. 

Slumped in his office chair, Phillip noticed the whiskey was disappearing rather quickly. 

Barnum and Anne may have both grown up orphans using their wits to survive but if Lettie’s suspicion were true--and the more he had thought about it, the more he had been inclined to see no other possibility--it explained why Barnum had no problem using whatever he had to manipulate people and Anne could not abide it. Even when it was done on her behalf. 

Everything he had was because of his parents. He doubted he would have gone very far in life without them. Joining the circus was the first time in his entire life that he strayed from the path they had laid out for him. They were less than thrilled about his choice, but he suspected that his mother held out hope he would have a change of heart and was urging his father to hold his tongue lest he drive their son away. 

Maybe she would have been right. If it were not for Anne. 

He was tipsy enough to laugh aloud at himself now as he pushed a hand through his hair. For all he was a goner, he had no idea how she felt about him. Although it was not lost on him that she tried to avoid him for the most part. Up until today, he had respected that, resigning himself to treasuring every glance and word she offered him like a man wringing the dew from the arrow-struck pansy. Love-in-idleness, as the flower was also known, was an apt reflection of his state. 

Footsteps on the walkway outside made him jump. He scrambled to hide the depleted bottle under his desk. 

The person knocked, which meant that it was not Barnum. “Come in,” he called. 

Lettie’s head popped in. She had already exchanged her costume for plain clothes. 

“Didn’t think I’d catch you here,” she said pleasantly, opening the door wider to let herself through before closing it behind her. “I thought you took Anne home.” Her nose twitched. “But I’m guessing not because it smells like you managed to climb your way into a bottle.” 

She stuck out a hand. Found out, Phillip did not bother to deny it and instead offered her a drink. Lettie accepted it gladly. 

“I came to tell you there are still men loitering in the alley. Barnum doesn’t seem to care, but I’m worried they’ll cause some kind of trouble.” 

He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”  


Lettie helped herself to more of the whiskey. “This is good stuff.” 

“You should help yourself to it more often.” 

“Careful what you offer. I may take you up on it.” 

“That is probably in my best interest anyway.”

She cackled and dropped into one of the seats beside the fireplace. “I came to tell you about one problem but seems you have maybe a few others on your mind.” 

Phillip ran a hand through his hair. “Do you have a moment?” 

“I’ll tell Octavia and Cecelia not to wait for me.” She hoisted herself up with a grunt and hurried out of his office. He could hear her bellowing down the stairs. 

When she returned and settled in, she stared at him expectantly. “Is this about Anne?” she asked when he did not speak for awhile. 

Phillip blushed. Was he really so obvious?

“If you’re wondering, Cecelia figured it out first. Uncanny knack she has for catching anything you try to hide. But once she pointed it out, it wasn’t hard to miss.” She rolled her eyes. “And after the way you acted this afternoon, even the slowest of us caught on.” 

Well, if everyone knew, then Anne was sure to realize soon enough. He winced. 

“I’m listening,” Lettie reminded him, her eyebrows raised with interest. 

Phillip recounted everything that happened after he brought the police up to interview Anne. Lettie listened intently and patiently. No one listened like Lettie could: that was one reason he really liked her. She had also been one of the first people to make him feel welcome. 

When he finished, she was stroking her beard. “What are you thinking?” he wanted to know. 

“Seems I can’t really tell you anything you don’t already know about Anne. If she has a fault, it’s pride. She doesn’t like to feel helpless. But she’ll come around soon enough.” 

“As for how she feels about you, I honestly can’t say,” Lettie told him apologetically. “She’s been on edge for a few weeks, that much I know. Cecelia wouldn’t ever admit this in front of Barnum, but today wasn’t the first time Anne disappeared for hours at a time without telling anyone where she was going or when she’d be back. We thought she was spending the time with WD but now I guess maybe not.”

“Do you,” Phillip was caught off guard by the catch in his throat. “Do you think she’s seeing someone?” 

Lettie’s eyes were just a little too wide when she denied it. The thought had at least crossed her mind. 

“God!” he let his head fall back and blinked up at the ceiling. He scrubbed his face with his hands.

“You don’t know anything for sure,” she reminded him. 

“I’m pretty sure she won’t look at me twice after today,” he groaned.

Lettie clucked in disgust. “Spare me the dramatics. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s a guarantee and a half she won’t like you acting like this.”

“You’re right.”

“Give me a ride home, and I’ll help you figure out what you can do about Anne,” she conceded.

“Deal,” he agreed, a slow grin spreading across his face.  


Lettie shook her head. “You’re pathetic, Carlyle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of references to literature and mythology sprinkled throughout the last three chapters, so if you're interested, read on. 
> 
> Chapter 2  
> Astrophil and Stella - Poetry. A series of Petrarch-an-ish sonnets written in the 16th century by...Sir Philip Sidney. Too good to pass up. The poems are written as unrequited love notes from Astrophil to the woman he admires, Stella, which is Latin for star. Sonnet 26 of the series is basically the 16th century version of Rewrite the Stars. Also the poems are based on a real life unrequited love that Sir Philip had for a woman who was unavailable. Oh the levels here! 
> 
> Chapter 3  
> Atalanta - Greek mythology. As a follower of Artemis, Atalanta was a beautiful and athletic sworn virgin for whom men sacrificed all sorts of things . In one story, a man who loves her sacrifices his family for her (ahhhh!!). In a number of stories, she's the sole woman going on adventures with men, which is a little of how I see Anne's life in the circus 
> 
> Love-in-idleness flower - Shakespeare. This is the magical flower in A Midsummer Night's Dream that Puck uses to wreak havoc on the love lives of Lysander, Helena, Hermia, Demetrius, and Titania


	4. They can say I've lost my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! Here you go.

The next morning, a cab let Phillip off in front of the streetcar office not far from Wall Street. A plaque beside the door indicated that he would find it on the second floor.

The interior of the narrow colonial building was dingy and lined with puckered wallpaper. A sagging staircase led up to the landing where he found the only door embossed with the company’s name. He knocked.

“Enter!” someone called.

Inside, a young man sat behind a desk in a small reception area. Behind him, a short hallway branched off into four different offices. 

“Good morning, sir,” the receptionist greeted him pleasantly. “How may I help you?”

Phillip returned the greeting. “I would like to file a complaint. With the president.”

“He is not in at the moment, but I can take a message, sir.”

“Is the vice president available?” 

“What name should I give him?”

“Phillip Carlyle.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened a little. He asked Phillip to wait and disappeared into one of the far offices.

Phillip could hear him and someone else speaking in low tones before the man popped back out.

“Mr. Kline will see you immediately.”

Phillip thanked him and strode into the vice president’s office. Dominated by tall cabinets and a large desk scattered with papers, it dwarfed the stout man who jumped up to greet him.

“Mr. Carlyle. How do you do? Thank you for coming in person,” Kline began nervously. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite his, which Phillip took, removing his hat and placing it on his knee. 

“Richards tells me you are here to file a complaint?” The man tapped his thumbs together and shifted in his seat. “We are truly honored that a man such as you uses our service and want to be sure to provide our best.”

“I don’t use the service,” Phillip said coolly. 

Kline blushed to the roots of his receding hair. 

“I came to report an incident pertaining to a woman in my show yesterday. It happened around 4 in the afternoon. She tried to board one of your streetcars, number 9, and was denied, although the car had enough space for her. When she refused to get off, the car’s driver struck her across the face and pushed her into the street.”

The vice president nodded. “An unfortunate business, all of it. My deepest apologies for  inconveniencing you, Mr. Carlyle. I believe I know the incident you speak of. It involved a colored woman?”

Phillip frowned. “Yes. But she was well within her rights to expect service, regardless. And I believe the apology is owed to her, not me.”

A furrow in Kline’s creased brow suggested that he disagreed on all counts, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he shuffled through a tall stack of papers on his desk and pulled out a file.

“Rather unusual but we had several passengers come forward with complaints about what happened yesterday. We are looking into the matter but since we do not have the woman’s statement, you will understand there is only so much we can do. We cannot risk firing an innocent man.” 

Phillip smiled amiably. “Firing someone innocent would indeed be unacceptable, but in this case, he is guilty. Miss Wheeler has filed a report with the police, and they are carrying out their investigation at this very moment. I believe that should suffice for her statement. I hope to learn that we can all put this behind us shortly.” He withdrew his card and handed it to Kline. “Here is my address. Please contact me as soon as you have an update.”

The man’s gray eyebrows shot upward when he read it. “Miss Wheeler has some very powerful friends.” 

Phillip did not miss the sneer pulling at the vice president’s elegant mouth. He seethed at the implications of Kline’s inflection on friends but defending Anne’s virtue would only confirm the man’s sordid thoughts. He kept himself in check. “I am here, as the others were, merely as a concerned citizen. I look forward to hearing that this has all been resolved satisfactorily.”

He stood and held out his hand. Kline hesitated and then rose to his feet and shook it. Phillip wished him a pleasant day and swept out of the office.

On the stairs, he scrubbed his hand on his coat. Anne had warned him of how the incident would be received. He recalled her tears as she begged him not to pursue recompense, certain that she would not get the justice she deserved. Some of his rage from the night re-ignited at the thought that these men, from the conductor, to the police, to Kline, felt they had the right to strip Anne of her dignity. 

He had wanted to crush the officers, to see every indication of their indifference squelched and drained from their contemptuous, disbelieving faces. And part of him had gotten satisfaction from their reaction. He was Anne’s champion, wielding his mighty sword of justice and shield of righteousness against her insidious foe. 

Until he saw the look of anguish on her face. She would rather forfeit her rights than see the tyranny to which she was subjected used on her behalf. He had not just forced his will. He had done it as carelessly as the conductor raised his hand. Chastised, Phillip was forced to lower his weapons like the epic hero brought to reckoning before his goddess. He had been challenged and found wanting. 

Phillip imagined Anne appearing as a goddess in one of his plays with her magnificent tresses crowned in silver, kohl setting off the shifting color of her eyes, and elegant form gowned in flowing hues of purple. Her low voice would wash over the audience, binding them to her every word as she did with her movements in the air, and she would command them not by force but by her compassion and intelligence. They would not oppose the color of her skin because they would be in love with it as the flesh of the embodiment of virtue.  

Or maybe she would have pink hair. He liked her with pink hair too. 

He hailed a cab and directed the driver to his house. 

Sitting back against the seat, Phillip realized that it was all very well to imagine Anne as a goddess but as the last day had shown, it was an laughable almost insulting facade to her reality. Some of the passengers had gone out of their way to report what happened, most likely after their sensibilities had been offended by the driver’s brutality, but where had they been when she was trying to board? Not a single person intervened then.

No one in all of this had given Anne the benefit of the doubt. She was the perpetrator, not the victim. A nuisance to be dealt with and quickly forgotten. They could do what they pleased with no consequences and apparently no conscience. And she was meant to accept it without a word. She had accepted it. 

Anne was not a goddess. She was a woman probably born a slave who despite all odds had managed to make something of herself. To call her a goddess diminished the force of will with which she had hauled herself up against society’s unrelenting disdain and prejudice. What he could not understand, yet admired, was where that will came from. He had never even had the courage to stand up to his parents.  

Phillip’s house stood on a quiet tree-lined street in Gramercy Park. A four story brownstone, it had a private garden and a carriage house, which he never used. His parents had given it to him for his 25th birthday in the hopes that he would be encouraged to marry and settle down but so far their intentions had failed.  

He had barely alighted and paid the hansom cab when his front door flew open to emit squeals and giggles of delight. 

Ten years old twins Josephine and Lilian Carlyle, identical down to the last reddish-brown curl, danced in the doorway. Which meant that he had an unexpected visit from his mother. Of all mornings. He cursed his luck but put on a smile for his younger sisters as he ran up to sweep them into a hug. 

“Flip!” Lilian’s face popped up from his cloak. “You never come to see us anymore, so we had to come see you!” 

“I know! I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.” 

“With what?” Josephine wanted to know. He pulled them into the house with their arms still around him so he could close the door. 

His parents had forbidden him from telling his sisters about joining the circus. They would want to go and the circus was no place for girls with proper manners. “My play,” he lied smoothly, keeping his focus on Lilian who was searching his pockets for sweets. 

Josephine was far more perceptive than her twin, and he worried she would see through him. Fortunately, his answer was acceptable for the moment, and she abandoned her questions to argue with her sister over the candies, which had finally been discovered. 

“Ladies!” Their mother emerged into the entrance hall behind her reprimand. Agnes Carlyle wore a deep blue silk gown that was slightly out of fashion but cut so expertly that it hid her plumpness. She had never been a beauty but age added grace to her features: close-set grey blue eyes, a prominent nose, and a narrow mouth. Her attractiveness came from the way her face transformed when she laughed, though she was not in a good humor now. 

“Such appalling behavior is not tolerated! Return those treats.” Meekly, Josephine handed the bag back to her brother. 

“Phillip they are too old for you to encourage them in such an unseemly way,” she added sharply. 

His valet Crispin hurried forward to take his coat. Phillip shed it gratefully and then went to greet his mother with a kiss on each of her cheeks. “It looks as if these two have not been the death of you yet,” he teased, jerking his thumb at his sisters.

Mrs. Carlyle smiled in spite of herself. “Not yet but they try. Where have you been? I did not expect you to be out so early.” 

“Errands,” he answered vaguely as he followed her into the house, slipping each of the girls a chocolate behind her back. 

They grinned at him in thanks and then scampered off to eat it out of sight, probably in the kitchen where they could beg food off the cook. 

His mother had started up the stairs in the foyer. “You ought to start thinking about decorating for Christmas,” she chided, running her hand along the railing. 

“It will be taken care of,” he assured her, hurrying to catch up to her and offer his arm. “Besides, what does it matter when I’ll be spending the holiday with you and father?” 

“So you get a holiday, working for this circus?” 

“Everyone has been working hard. They certainly deserve it. And it seems remiss not to acknowledge the first official Christmas holiday, doesn’t it?”

His mother sniffed. “What a silly waste of Congress’s time.” However, she was not to be sidetracked. “I spoke with your father. He is still not happy about what you are doing, but we know you have been restless and unhappy for so long, and this circus seems to give you some kind of satisfaction. A mother only wants to see her son happy. But,” she hesitated, “Phillip, why not consider going abroad again? You can see your friends in London and then tour the mainland. Perhaps a year or two away is what you need to help refresh you.”

He patted her hand. “I am happy where I am. But if all goes well, I plan to go to London soon. It depends on my friend’s response.”

Mrs. Carlyle looked at him hopefully. 

Phillip cleared his throat. “I’ve asked a friend of mine from Oxford to get us an audience with the Queen. It will give the circus credibility, and we need to boost ticket sales and quell the protestors.” 

Her nose wrinkled. “It will take more than that to give any credence to Barnum’s name. He is nothing but a charlatan and a swindler, and if you’re not careful, he will tarnish your name too.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m being careful.” 

“No, that would be giving this whole thing up.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. “I am not going to try to dissuade you. I only hope you find what you are looking for soon so you can return to writing plays. You take the critics too much to heart. I have seen plays far worse than yours.”

“That is hardly a recommendation, Mother,” he said archly, leading her into his well-appointed drawing room. Mrs. Carlyle had selected the decor herself with french inspired chaises, chairs, and side tables in sage and yellow and oriental accents, including beautiful Chinese porcelains. 

“Well the last one was rather brutally satirical. You could write something a little less caustic.”

“In other words, you are politely suggesting I take the critics to heart.” 

Mrs. Carlyle sat in a huff. “I hate when you take me round in these verbal circles,” she complained. “What happened to my sweet doting boy who used to leave me poems on my vanity?” 

He could not stand himself any longer, Phillip thought, but said instead, “He realized it was poetry only a mother could love and decided to spare her.”

His quip elicited a smile. “Although I should not complain. You never gave me anywhere near the trouble that Josephine and Lilian do. Another governess quit, you know. Apparently they have been telling her that her room is haunted and taking turns sneaking into the attic over her bedroom to drop things and stomp around in the night. Heaven only knows where they found them, but they managed to hide several bats in her armoire. I had to explain to our neighbors why our governess was running down the street in only her nightgown shrieking at the top of her lungs in broad daylight, and Mrs. Headley had to take the poor woman to a hotel to get dressed because she refused to enter our house again.”

Phillip laughed so hard he could hardly breathe at the tale of his sisters’ latest mischief. Sagging against the hearth, he wiped the tears from his eyes. A haunted room was something Lilian would have made up in a moment, but the thorough execution was definitely Josephine’s. Only his parents’ cook was safe from their pranking, and only because the girls had been forced to eat every bite of the food they once ruined when they switched the sugar and salt in the kitchen. 

“I fear sending them away to finishing school,” Mrs. Carlyle continued with a chuckle. “I’ll have no reputation.” 

As if summoned, Lilian clamored to the top of the stairs and skipped into the drawing room followed by a more subdued Josephine.

The girls were small for their age with curly reddish-brown hair that they wore in long plaits tied with ribbons to match the trim of their dresses, navy blue for Lilian and lilac for Josephine. They shared their brother’s long eyelashes and cerulean eyes.  

“Please walk Lilian,” their mother sighed. 

“Sorry, I forgot,” the girl said breathlessly. “Tea is on its way. Jo asked for extra biscuits.” 

Josephine scowled. “Stop calling me that. I told you I hate that name.” 

Lilian turned to Phillip and gave him a long suffering look. “Jo March is the best character in  _ Little Women _ so I don’t see why she doesn’t like it. If my name were Josephine,  _ I’d _ want to be called Jo.” 

“Would not! You wouldn’t like it if I called you by a boy’s name.” Josephine shot back. 

“Jo’s a girl,” retorted Lilian. 

Josephine started to stick out her tongue, caught a look from her mother, and flounced across the room to take a seat by the large bow window that overlooked the street. 

Tea arrived and Mrs. Carlyle served them while Lilian helped herself to biscuits. “Perhaps you could show your brother the new dance that you’re learning in ballet,” Mrs. Carlyle announced, attempting to ease the tension between the two girls. “He enjoyed your performance a few weeks ago.”

Actually, he had been on his way to being drunk, but he nodded anyway. 

“We don’t have our slippers,” Josephine pointed out. 

Coming to his mother’s rescue, Phillip suggested they could do it in their stocking feet instead. “Come on,” he insisted, grinning at Lilian, “when have you ever missed an opportunity to show off?” 

Lilian swallowed her biscuit. “It’s not showing off if it’s just you.”

“Flip?” Josephine asked suddenly. She was standing with her nose pressed to the window. “Why is there a policeman at your door?” 

He set his tea down on the side table. “They are looking into something for me.” Downstairs the knocker boomed. “Excuse me.” 

With the two girls present, his mother frowned but dared not ask any of the questions on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she called Josephine over to join her and Lilian. 

Phillip drew the room’s doors shut behind him and called for Crispin to bring the man up to the third floor. 

When his valet bowed his guest into the library, he saw that only Connell had returned. Tempted as he was to ask after his partner, Phillip decided to let it go. 

“Good morning, Mr. Carlyle,” the lieutenant said stiffly when the door closed behind Crispin. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the towering shelves of books, rich wood paneling, and portrait of Phillip’s great-great-grandfather, posed in his Continental Army uniform, above the marble fireplace.   

Phillip smiled wryly. “Miss Wheeler suggested that I was perhaps...too severe last night. She felt that I could have expressed my displeasure without resorting to such drastic threats. My apologies.” 

Connell kept his face meticulously closed. “Thank you, sir, but no apology needed.” 

“Well at least that clears  _ my _ conscience,” Phillip said with a grin. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “What have you found?”

“The shopkeeper’s account agreed with hers. The er, Miss Wheeler’s. We saw him this morning first thing. He was able to tell us better what the driver looked like so Lieutenant Dregers went on to the streetcar line to get his name while I came here to give you our report.” 

“Excellent.” So Dregers was still on the investigation and not absent in protest of his ill-treatment. 

The policeman shifted. “We should have him for questioning by this afternoon or evening.”   


“Thank you, Lieutenant Connell. Will you send for me when you do? I will most likely be at the circus.” 

“Of course, Mr. Carlyle.” 

He was about to see the man out when he remembered his conversation with Lettie the night before. “The performers tell me that there are men loitering and harassing them in the alley behind the circus. Is there a way to disperse them before someone gets hurt?”

Connell rubbed his cheek. “I will see what we can do.”

“That is all I ask.” Phillip thanked him again and bid him goodbye before returning to his mother and sisters.

“Are you in trouble?” Lilian wanted to know immediately. Beside her, his mother looked just as interested in his answer. 

“He wanted to know why a poor innocent woman was sent screaming from our parents’ address in her nightgown,” he teased, tugging one of her braids. “He told me to warn you that there are unpleasant consequences for little girls who torment their governesses.” 

Lilian humored him with a gasp and wide eyes but Josephine remained unmoved. “Miss Delaney said mean things to all of the maids. And she hit May and Iris.” May and Iris were two of the Carlyles’ colored servants. 

His eyes widened. Of all things, he had not expected that response to his teasing.

Now Mrs. Carlyle gasped. “Josephine!”

“I wanted to tell but she said she would get them fired if I did.” 

Lilian’s eyes shimmered with tears. “Please don’t be angry with us again, Mama.” 

Josephine’s little face was defiant. “I don’t care if you and Papa are angry. I would do it again and take every punishment.” 

“There is no need to be impertinent, Josephine. But I--I’m glad you told the truth.” Mrs. Carlyle looked distraught. “To think of her, frightening you poor girls like that. I will have to revoke my reference!” 

Phillip wished dearly that he could introduce Josephine to Anne. Maybe he would figure out a way. Smiling proudly at his little sister, he said, “You were brave to stand up to her.” And with a wink, he added, "And so cleverly too." That remark earned his mother's expected protests and admonishments but more importantly Josephine's pleased blush.   


His mother and sisters departed after luncheon, and Phillip left for the circus. Going slightly out of his way, he stopped at a greenhouse florist to pick up his order, placed that morning. They had far surpassed his instructions and expectations for the arrangement, and he cradled the flowers in his lap the entire ride. 

As he hoped, he arrived before everyone but Mr. O’Malley who was selling tickets at the box office for that evening’s performance. However, it would not be long before the earliest began to trickle in.

Backstage, Phillip slipped into the dressing room that Anne shared with her brother. It was really just a curtained off area for privacy. On one side was a rack with all of the siblings’ costumes and practice clothes. The only pieces of furniture were a mirrored vanity and its seat. Neatly arranged jars, a cup of brushes, a stand for Anne’s pink wig, and several feather hair pieces covered the vanity’s surface. 

Feeling like an intruder, he walked over to it and placed the bouquet he had bought for Anne in front of the mirror. He ran his hand along the underside of the flowers to be sure none of the petals would be crushed in the wrong direction when she found it.

He did not leave a note, though he had stayed up late into the night to write one and the fireplace in his library was littered with charred and torn drafts. As a playwright, he was presumably a man of words. But when it came to Anne, he could not seem to find the ones grand enough to capture her or humble enough to move her.

Phillip prayed that in the end gestures mattered more.     

 

 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Phillip has sisters! And they call him Flip. No these are not the girls we saw in the movie who were talking about Caroline after the ballet performance, although they were in the same show. Lilian is snobby and looks down on CB, but she would never outright make fun of her. Mostly because of her twin Josephine who, like her brother, sees herself as an arbiter of justice and doesn't like bullies. Those girls talking about smelling like peanuts better watch out...


	5. The doors and mountains that we can't walk through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter demands notes and warnings upfront. 
> 
> First, it contains rape/non-consensual sex. I'm not really into graphic depictions, but it's there. At least in this story, there is a reason that WD and Anne are such different complexions. It's something I thought about long and hard, but this was a reality of their time. However, not all light-skinned blacks were necessarily the result of rape, as we see with Cecelia and Mrs. Alston. 
> 
> Second, I use the term 'mulatto.' Technically, it was used to refer to someone who was half black/half white (or sometimes half mixes of other things.) However, etymologically, it is derived from Spanish for mule, which is an awful and insulting comparison (sorry if you adore mules.) Today, I would consider this only slightly less inflammatory than the N-word and should never be used in casual conversation, or in my opinion, lightly. At least in English. While Anne will never be ashamed of who she is, she also isn't sure hers is a life others would willingly choose, particularly when they see just how ugly things can be for her.

Gingerly Anne felt the bruising on her face. With the blood cleaned away, it no longer looked quite so bad. Her neck and shoulders were still sore though. 

“How do I look?” she asked, catching sight of Cecelia behind her in the mirror. 

The woman crossed her arms. “Turn around.”

Anne obeyed. Unlike Octavia, beside whom Anne looked almost white, Cecelia was only slightly darker complexioned than her friend. When she was not performing, she wore her thick, dark hair parted down the middle with twists on either side that gave way to a full bun Anne envied. She was petite but full figured with high cheekbones, large eyes, and plump sensitive lips.      


“Nothing you can’t hide with a lot of makeup,” her friend admitted. 

“I hear Barnum’s been looking for a clown,” Lettie said slyly from where she stood over the stove, stirring the stew they would have for supper before they left. 

Anne joined the laughter. “I feel like one for trying to get on that streetcar yesterday. What a mess I’ve created.” She moved to help Octavia set the table while Cecelia dropped onto the bed that she shared with Anne. Zipporah, their stray tabby, leapt into her lap. “I would have been better off late.”

“And where were you late coming from?” Lettie wanted to know. 

She told them about her visit to the boarding house to try to find Miss Swann. Recalling Mrs. Alston’s offer, she giggled. “The woman who runs the boarding house offered to find a husband for me. She insisted I could be married within a month.” 

Octavia chuckled. “What did you say?” 

“I promised to consider it, of course! What else could I say?” 

Cecelia raised a feathery eyebrow. “And who exactly are you considering then?” 

“Her husband was a colored doctor. That’s the sort of folks she knows.” 

“And you didn’t immediately say yes?” Octavia exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed. “Was this before or after the driver hit you?”

“Before!”

“Then you better go back and tell her you’ve had some sense slapped into you while you still have the bruises to prove it!” Octavia told her with a grin. 

Anne and Cecelia laughed. “I doubt they will work in my favor.” 

“That’s not funny,” protested Cecelia through her mirth. 

Lettie, however, no longer shared their amusement. A deep scowl had settled over her features. “And what about Phillip?” she demanded, turning from the stove with her hands on her hips. 

Anne froze at her tone, completely caught off guard. Cecelia straightened up on the bed. “Lettie,” she warned. Zipporah’s tail switched. 

“What about him?” Anne asked carefully. She had an idea of where Lettie was going with her question,and she wished to go anywhere but where it was headed.

“You know what I mean.” 

All of them could hear the stew bubbling in its pot. Anne was also sure they could hear her heart thudding frantically in her chest. 

Her hands trembled as she straightened a fork on the table. “No. I’m not sure what you mean.” But her stomach sank, and everything that she had been keeping at bay came rushing forward. 

“You mean to tell me you haven’t noticed the way he looks at you, the way he lights up when you can be bothered to give him even a word? What he did for you yesterday?” 

Anne’s face burned. Of course she had noticed. As much as she had tried to ignore and avoid Carlyle and whatever it was that he felt, hoping it would go away, she was not blind. 

But it was Cecelia who spoke quietly. “It’s none of our business.”   
Lettie glared at her. “So it was just yourself you were talking about yesterday when you told WD he wasn’t the only one who loved Anne?” 

From the tone of Lettie’s voice and Octavia’s refusal to meet her eyes, Anne began to understand this was not the first time they were having this argument. Clearly, Lettie was on Carlyle’s side through and through and Cecelia was on hers. She was not sure where Octavia stood. Her absences must have given them plenty of time to talk behind her back.  

Cecelia looked grim. “Leave WD out of this.” 

Instead Lettie rounded on Anne. “Is he the reason you’ve been treating Phillip the way you have? Just because your brother can’t fathom another man loving you doesn’t mean…”

“Lettie!” Cecelia said sharply, dumping the cat from her lap as she leapt up off the bed. 

“It’s not that,” whispered Anne. She shrank under the bearded woman’s accusing glare. She was a little girl again huddled outside of a tent, wishing she could unhear what she had just learned.

“Then what is it?” demanded Lettie. “I never took you for a girl to play games, Anne.” 

“I’m not,” she begged. “It’s complicated. He shouldn’t...I shouldn’t. I can’t. We can’t,” she tried to find the words. Her heart was battering at her chest as it had that night. She remembered her promise to her brother. She remembered her mother. Or rather, a woman she only knew through pain.

True, Carlyle had never made a move against her will, had never cornered her, had never taken advantage of a moment that she was alone.

But that did not mean he would not discard her when he was bored or shamed. He had too much to lose. Didn’t Lettie understand what she was demanding? It was impossible. Carlyle would only feel resentment when his infatuation faded and he was faced with the reality of being attached to a colored woman. He would be a pariah. Because of her.

Anything between them could only lead to pain. 

“If you can’t, then I’ll talk to WD,” Lettie said finally.

“No!” shouted Cecelia and Anne in unison. 

Now Lettie and Octavia looked shocked. Anne groaned and sank into a chair, burying her face in her hands. Keeping secrets had been so much easier when it was just she and her brother, dependent on and attached to no one but one another. 

He kept and she kept the secret, neither letting on to the other what they both knew. 

It was why WD had threatened Carlyle when they first met, warning him that if he touched his sister he could look forward to never enjoying another woman again. 

Cecelia knew. Except for Anne and WD, only she and Tirza knew the truth of Anne’s parentage. And WD had meant for his sister never to know. Perhaps that would have been the case but for his nightmares. 

Although Tirza had sent her away that night, Anne snuck back to listen outside the tent she shared with her brother as he confessed the regular torment that woke him sobbing and yelling in the night. 

His father had been lost in a careless card game, a high stakes buy in for his skill as a blacksmith. He was barely gone when WD and his mother were moved from their cabin to the big house. Even as he played with the little mistress, about his own age, WD watched the master corner his mother at every opportunity, caressing her cheek, dropping kisses on her neck, slipping his hand down or up her dress.  

He did not understand what it all meant until the night the door to their closet opened. Moonlight spilling across the floor woke him. Then it was dark again. There were footsteps, then rustling. His mother whispering so low and so quickly it sounded like hissing. 

A growl and then a muffled sob. WD did not dare call out to her. An intake of breath. A grunt and then labored breathing, over and over that seemed to go on forever, before a stifled groan. Silence and then scuffling. The door opened and a silhouette slipped out. 

He waited. He heard her sniff. “Mama?” he whispered into the darkness. 

“Jes a dream baby,” she said thickly. “G’on back t’sleep.” 

But that night was not a dream. Nor were the ones like it that followed until his mother took up his pallet one day. “You sleepin’ in the kitchen,” she told him. He did until he woke one morning to a jolt of pain in his side before the wind was knocked out of him after the mistress’s foot connected with his chest. He scrambled up and fled, only able to escape because she was heavy with child. 

His mother cried when she saw the mark on his little chest, and from then on, he slept in her sister’s cabin in a bed with three of his cousins. He worked in the fields, his chubby little fingers scrambling over the cotton to tear off the worms as the sun scorched his neck. 

WD rarely saw his mother but it soon became clear something was wrong. If her sleeves were rolled up, he could see the bruises that stained her arms. There was no way she could hide the ones on her face and neck. And then her stomach began to swell, just as the mistress’s had before she gave birth to a little boy. 

He was there the day it happened. His mother was on the landing, a tray in her hands. The little mistress was asking for some cake. One moment, his hand was wound in her dress and the next she screamed, the tray crashed and china exploded as she tumbled down the stairs. His mother lay stunned and bleeding under the cold, murderous gaze of her mistress. Then the master was there and the mistress was screaming horrible words at him. WD knelt by his mother and sobbing, begged her to get up. She was too heavy for him to lift, but he kept trying with all his strength until she pushed herself up. 

Two days later, his mother lifted him into a wagon and set two small bundles beside him, telling him they were going for a ride. Her sister was there, her face swollen from crying but dry. She kissed WD and told him to take care of his mother. Then the sisters embraced and his mother hoisted herself into the wagon. For nearly a day, they traveled and when they stopped, they were at a new plantation. They had been sold.  

There she gave birth to Anne, named for the sister she had left behind. It was his ninth harvest when his mother woke him in the middle of the night. She tied the baby to her back, and they ran. 

Slowed down by two children and afraid staying together would make them easily recognizable, she traveled beyond the reach of the slave catchers and then left them on the wagon bed of a traveling circus. WD promised he would look after his baby sister. He clutched her in his little arms, rocking and singing softly to her so she would not be scared, as his last parent disappeared into the dark.     

Crouched and cold in frost laden grass, Anne learned that her father was not a blacksmith but a man who had owned and sold her without a thought before she had even been born.  

A gentle hand touched her shoulder while she struggled with the memory. 

“It’s not that easy,” she sighed at last. She was not sure her brother would ever trust Carlyle’s intentions, and she would never blame him. From the moment she had entered his life, WD put her first. When they were hungry, she ate. When they were cold, he gave her every extra bit of warmth he had. When she was sick, he would cup her face in his hands and promise to always take care of her. Whatever her own feelings were, nothing could be more unbearable to her than making her brother unhappy.  

Lettie placed the pot of stew on the table. Its heat forced Anne to sit up and take in the room. Cecelia stood at her back. It was her hand comforting Anne. Octavia had taken the chair across from her and sat with her arm extended across the table, palm up as if offering peace. 

Only Lettie continued to look uneasy. She swayed and fidgeted with her apron, winding it around and around her arms. 

“Look, I’m not going to come between you and your brother then, whatever it is with you two. But if you know how Phillip feels about you, then I think s’only fair you tell him you’re not interested.” 

She hesitated, then added stubbornly, “But if you want him and you’re only holding back ‘cause WD, I think you better think long and hard about it.” 

Seeing the look on Cecelia’s face, Lettie shrugged. “Fine, I said my piece. I won’t say anymore about it. Let’s eat.” She set out the bread. 

The women ate in silence, each lost in her thoughts. 

After supper, Anne fed Zipporah and left water out for her while Octavia and Cecelia cleaned the dishes. Then they bundled up against the cold, Anne in a coat borrowed from Octavia until hers could be cleaned, and left for the circus. 

The closer they got, the more she dreaded the coming evening. There was the argument she and Carlyle had the night before that she would have to confront. And now her friends were at odds with him in the middle of it. 

Anne sighed as she unwound her shawl once sheltered inside from the cold. He had his pick of women, why her? Unless she was just one of many. Their worlds were so far apart it would be easy. But as much as she wanted to indulge that line of thought, Anne was fair, and Carlyle gave no indication of being the philandering type. 

A wonderful smell pulled her from her thoughts. In front of her dressing room mirror lay one of the most beautiful floral arrangements Anne had ever seen. The thick bouquet of purple hyacinths was bound with a white satin ribbon. She looked for a note but could find none. They had to be from Carlyle though. Who else besides Barnum could afford such magnificent flowers in the middle of the winter? And Barnum had no reason to single her out. 

Cecelia gasped when she saw them. “Do you know what these mean?” Anne had called her into her dressing room to help her unbotton her dress since she was still too sore to do it herself. 

“He likes me?” she asked, her face warm. 

“Well, yes, that. But these are purple hyacinths. They mean forgiveness. And the white ribbon around them shows the recipient’s innocence. The sender is asking your forgiveness and telling you you’re not at fault.” 

“Oh!” 

Cecelia turned to Anne, her face puzzled. “Do you understand why he would send these?” Anne had not yet told her what happened with the police. 

“I have an idea,” WD said, startling the two women when he came up behind them. “Annie gave Carlyle a piece of her mind last night. She was mad as a hornet.” 

“I didn’t expect  _ him _ to apologize.”

“Those policemen deserved what they got.” 

Anne hastily explained the source of the argument to Cecelia. With a grin, her friend said, “I guess it’s not easy to impress you, is it?” 

“He shouldn’t have abused his power like that,” she protested. 

“Sometimes that’s the only thing people will understand,” Cecelia disagreed. “I have to change!” And she was off. 

WD pulled the curtain to switch clothes. 

“So you agree with him?” Anne asked through the cloth as she began to remove her dress. 

“Not sure where you got it from, but you can be real high-minded. If he’d keep his eyes off you, I might even say he’s a decent sort.” 

“Lettie says I should tell him I’m not interested.” 

“That’s something I’d be glad to do.” 

“You already had your chance,” she retorted. “Clearly it didn’t work.”

“He’s kept his hands off you.” 

Anne rolled her eyes and changed the subject. 

As Cecelia had said, it took a lot of makeup to cover her bruises but in the end, they were only faintly visible. When they were ready, Barnum called them to the arena to get his approval on their modified routine for the evening. Anne’s sore neck and shoulders meant that it was too risky for her to do anything in the air. 

She stretched her arms and legs out as she waited for the dancers to finish. Beside her WD did the same. Anne had always been more flexible than he, something she never tired of teasing him about. Tonight, she decided to show off a bit and do all of her stretches in a split. 

It was his turn to roll his eyes at her but he finished by grinning. “You should know by now I won’t hurt myself to show you up. Although you’re lucky my reflexes are better.” 

That was certainly true. They had saved her neck many times before she developed a healthy sense of fear. 

“Anne, WD!” called Barnum. 

The two of them took center stage. Within moments, Anne was suspended upside down above him, her brother’s hands, arms, and shoulders her only support as her legs scissored and folded in graceful strokes. The trust between them had been solidified years ago. When he launched her high into the air, she never doubted that he would catch her. 

Even Barnum looked impressed when they were done. “You two will have to show me all of what you can do one of these days. That’ll work until Anne gets back into the air. Next!” 

She and WD grinned at one another. They had grown up in the circus and had plenty more to show. 

Carlyle was waiting for them when they returned backstage. He greeted WD first. When he turned to Anne, a flush crept over his cheeks. “The police were here. They have the driver in custody and want us to come this evening.” 

Grateful that her complexion and makeup hid her own blush, she asked when they were expected. 

“I’ll ask Barnum to place your act in the beginning, and we can leave after. WD, you’re welcome to come.”

WD shook his head reluctantly. “Much as I want to, I’ll probably only cause trouble, Mr. Carlyle.” 

Carlyle started to protest, then thought better of it. “Let me know if you reconsider. I know I would want to be there for my sisters.” 

It was not until he had hurried off to consult with Barnum, that Anne realized she should have mentioned the flowers. He must think her rude or ungrateful. They had been so expensive, worth at least a month or two of her own wages. 

“He has sisters?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Carlyle has sisters,” WD repeated. 

“And?” 

He shrugged. “Just thought we’d’ve seen ‘em by now.” 

“How many rich ladies besides Mrs. Barnum do you see lining up to see us?” she laughed. But WD was right, and the realization strangely hurt. Either Carlyle was ashamed of the circus or his family was ashamed of him, and neither boded well for her having any place but as a kept woman, if that, in his life.

“WD, I’d like for you to come with us,” she told him. “Please? You don’t have to say anything, and let Carlyle take the lead. But if I go down there alone with him, you know what people will think.” 

She could not have used a better means of persuasion and so with Barnum’s permission, and her face scrubbed clean and hair pinned up, the two of them joined Carlyle in a hansom cab to the police station. The driver looked disgruntled at having two colored people on board but a large tip and a promise that he could drop them on a side street so they would not be seen getting out staid his tongue. 

Carlyle looked upset and embarrassed by their treatment but he knew enough to keep his indignation to himself, making do with a mumbled apology. 

The carriage was uncomfortably quiet. Anne wished dearly for WD’s usually easy conversation but he seemed to feel no need to exert himself tonight. Instead, he and Carlyle seemed to be locked in a staring match, sizing each other up. 

“So you have sisters?” WD said at last. 

“I do. Lilian and Josephine. They’re ten.” 

Anne was surprised to learn they were so young. She guessed that Carlyle was in his mid or late twenties.   

He seemed eager to break the silence. “I saw them today. They’re a handful but they mean well. Lilian is trying to convince Josephine to go by Jo based on a book she read.” 

“ _ Little Women _ ?” Anne asked with a smile.

Carlyle looked surprised. “Yes, that’s the one.” 

“Anne reads anything,” WD explained. 

She directed the conversation back to Carlyle’s sisters. He told them of their pranks, how they had mixed dry ink into the tea so that all of their mother’s guests left with stained teeth and lips, the time they slipped a den of snakes under their governess’s bed sheets so that she turned back her covers to a writhing mattress, and when they had switched names for a day at their grandmother’s. 

It was clear from the way he spoke of them that he adored them, and by the time they arrived at 300 Mulberry Street, they were all wiping away tears of laughter. 

Police headquarters was an imposing four story building with CENTRAL DEPARTMENT OF METROPOLITAN POLICE lettered across the front above the recessed entry. This late in the evening, they had to knock to be admitted. 

Once inside, they were led up to the second floor. They passed a large open space full of desks and entered a windowless room. Here they were offered chairs and asked to wait. On either side of her, Carlyle and WD sat rigidly. She thought of how imposing both could be when angered and felt almost sorry for the driver. 

It was sometime before they heard footsteps in the hall again. Several marched with almost military precision and one dragged. The three of them rose when the door swung open and admitted four men. The first one had a generous, neatly trimmed beard. He introduced himself to them as Captain Berghold. Anne recognized Lieutenants Connell and Dregers.

And the man between them was the driver. His hair was combed back, his beard groomed, and his uniform crisp as if he had only just been pulled from his route. 

The Captain pulled up a chair on the other side of the room. Connell and Dregers shoved their prisoner into it and bound his feet to the legs. 

“His name’s Murray. We got him at the end of his shift,” Captain Berghold explained. “The Line gave him up to us with no trouble. He has been terminated from their employ.” 

The driver glared balefully at Anne. 

“If Miss Wheeler confirms this is the one who assaulted her, she can press charges. We’ll hold him until the trial.” 

“Anne?” asked Carlyle. WD placed a hand on her shoulder. 

She nodded. 

Murray sneered and spat. “All this for an uppity mulatto whore no…” 

Her brother’s grip on her tightened so hard she thought he might break her bones. Anne wrapped herself around his arm in case he decided to do something foolish. There was nothing she could do for Carlyle who had started forward, white around his lips, blue eyes blazing. 

“Silence!” bellowed Captain Berghold. 

The prisoner could not have continued anyway for one of Connell’s thick hands was around his neck choking off his air supply. 

“Please let him go,” Anne begged as Murray’s eyes bulged and watered. 

Connell gave a final squeeze and then released him. “I just saved your life, you fool,” he hissed. “Next time I’ll let you hang yourself.” The driver coughed and sputtered. 

“Mr. Murray, do you have a family?” Anne asked. 

Murray looked as if he wished he had done more than backhand her the day before. But with five men staring him down, a sense of self-preservation seemed to kick in finally. 

“Yes.” 

“Children?” she asked. 

He glared at her suspiciously but then answered affirmatively.

“Then no, Captain Berghold, I do not wish to press charges. His termination is enough. All I ask is an apology.” She felt no pity for Murray but regretted that his children and wife would no doubt suffer for his actions. A quick calculation decided her. 

“While he thinks of what he would like to say, Mr. Carlyle, would you step out with me? Please?” 

Everyone looked at her in surprise but Carlyle followed her out. 

Once they were alone, he crossed his arms. “I think you need to explain because I can’t even begin to guess to what is going to come out of your mouth next.” 

Anne bit her lip. She was about to ask a huge favor. Barnum would have been preferable but Carlyle would have to do. 

“I--may I--have a month’s advance on my wages?” 

He definitely had not seen that coming. His jaw dropped. “What?” 

“Please, Mr. Carlyle. He has a wife and children and no job. Maybe if I don’t press charges the streetcar line will hire him back in a few months as soon as they think this has blown over. But until then, the Murrays could lose their home. I promise I won’t leave until I’ve repaid everything.” 

Carlyle shook his head. “Anne, he assaulted you, and--and what he just called you, and you’re worried about his family?” 

“I have almost enough that I could repay you immediately. Then I promise to repay the rest as soon as possible. I know it won’t be hardly enough for them, but…”

“Nothing is going to change if he doesn’t face the consequences for what he did.” 

“And he won’t change if this ruins his life. The law says that streetcars cannot be segregated. It says nothing about not allowing colored people to board.” 

“A technicality,” he argued. “Besides, he still had no right to hit you.” 

“Maybe not,” Anne relented. “But ruining him won’t make him look at colored people any better. I know it’s so much to ask, and I wouldn’t…”

Carlyle ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t let you do this.”

“Then I’ll go home and fetch what I have.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “I can’t let you go into debt when I have the means to do what you ask.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“As long as he apologizes, I will give him the equivalent of two months of your wages. From my own pocket. You won’t owe anything.” 

Anne stared at him in her turn to be stunned. She protested but he would not hear it. “You’re not the only one who can be stubborn as a mule, Anne Wheeler, so either you accept my offer or there’s no advance.”

Now she regretted her request but she could not go back on it. Anne twisted her hands. “I, Mr. Carlyle, I won’t be in your debt.” 

Immediately she wanted to take the words back. Carlyle’s expression looked as if she had slapped him. He swallowed. “Do you really think that of me?”

She backed away, eyes down. “I don’t know what to think of you,” she whispered. 

“Well I hope it’s not that,” his voice was not as light as he tried to make it. “There’s a parable that I heard at church once. A woman came to the temple and emptied everything in her purse into the offering box. Compared to the great sums others had given, it was nothing. But it was all she had, and Jesus praised her for giving out of her poverty and not her wealth, for she gave even when she had nothing to give. You just reminded me of that woman.” 

“Now I hope a man could not harbor such a memory and the thought of what you were suggesting at the same time, and though greater men than I might prove me false, that is alas the only meager defense I can offer you on my behalf.” 

Anne could not help herself. “You speak by th’ book, O Romeo,” she teased. And then added sincerely, “I’m sorry.” 

Carlyle grinned. He took her hand, and Anne suddenly could not breathe as her eyes met his blue ones. “So you accept, fair Juliet? As long as you don’t march down to the streetcar line and demand they give his job back.”  

“I may forgive but I’m not a saint,” she said with a scowl, jerking her hand away. 

“You’d fooled me,” he replied and showed her back into the room. 

Murray’s face went white when Anne announced the conditions of his release. Captain Berghold protested, but Carlyle insisted that those were her wishes. 

“I’m not apologizing for none of her money,” Murray growled. 

Anne crossed her arms. “It’s not for you. Consider it your family’s compensation for your idiocy for all I care. 

Lieutenant Dregers snorted and Connell hid a smile in the crook of his arm. Captain Berghold pulled his baton from his belt. “I’ve had enough of your foolishness for this evening,” he told the prisoner. “Now apologize so these good people can be on their way.” 

Murray glowered. “These uppity…” The captain’s baton moved up ever so slightly, and he shut his mouth.

“Fine, I’m sorry for hitting you.” 

“Thank you,” Anne told him. “I hope you will think again the next time you raise a hand against someone for the color of their skin.” 

The prisoner’s face turned purple but Anne had everything she had come for. Carlyle gave the money meant for Murray to the captain, and he, WD, and Anne left. 

They dropped off WD first as he lived north of the circus. 

“I can take a streetcar from here,” Anne said, starting to get out after him. 

“It’s late.” Carlyle’s gaze met WD’s. “I can see you home.” 

She searched her brother’s face. He did not look glad about the prospect but nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Carlyle.” 

The door closed, and they were off again, Anne riding opposite of him. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t thanked you yet for the beautiful flowers,” she said at last. “You must think me so rude. Thank you.” 

“I don’t think you’re rude. And you’re welcome.” He beamed at her, and Anne’s heart fell. 

Carlyle was a good man. In any other circumstances, she would be flattered by, even eager for, his regard. But he was a wealthy society man, and she was an orphan who had scraped out a living in the world. He was white, and she was colored. And while each of these alone would have been a challenge, altogether they were impossible. Their worlds were just too far apart. He could not know all it would cost to be with her, and she knew all too well. And she would not ask that of him, nor would she let him pay it, even if her heart longed otherwise. 

Her mother had abandoned her and her brother on the back of a cart so that they could have the best chance of being free. Sometimes you had to care for someone enough to let them go on without you. 

He would find and marry a beautiful, smart society woman whom his parents approved and his sisters looked up to, and he would forget the poor circus girl. Or maybe she would be lucky enough to live on in a figment of one of his characters, safely preserved and harmless within the infinite confines of a play.      


“Mr. Carlyle, Lettie tells me I have been careless with your feelings. Forgive us, if we presume wrong.”

He sat forward eagerly, his eyes so hopeful they tripped up her resolve. “No, no, you haven’t presumed wrong.” He tried to take her hand, but she drew it back and folded it in her lap. 

“Then I have been careless, and I take all the blame.” Her eyes met his. Steady. “I cannot let you go on believing that I can offer you anything more than the respect that I have for you as my employer and Mr. Barnum’s junior partner.” 

“Anne.” 

“Mr. Carlyle--,”

“Phillip. Please call me Phillip,” he begged.

Her fists closed so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms. She could not betray an iota of emotion because his eyes were desperately searching her face for any hint that she was lying. 

“Mr. Carlyle, I truly appreciate everything that you have done for me. You have been very kind. And generous. But our relationship should remain strictly professional.” 

That was as much as she could get out before her eyes began to burn with tears and the knot in her throat threatened to choke her words.

At first Carlyle looked stunned, but slowly the sincerity of her words dawned on him and his face fell to his hands.      


She was too focused on holding herself together to offer him any comfort. 

When they arrived at her stop, he handed her out of the cab. She let him keep her hand in his until they reached the side door that led directly to her room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Anne,” his voice was pleading. “All I ask is a chance. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to find you and now that I have…these last few months knowing you,” he choked and shook his head, unable to go on.

“I don’t believe there is any one person we’re meant to find,” she said softly. “Goodbye, Mr. Carlyle.”

Anne let herself in and closed the door between them.

The others were waiting up to hear about her visit to police headquarters. They looked up eagerly when they heard the door. 

But the first thing she saw was his bouquet, which they had put in a pitcher on the table for her. Then the tears running down her face gave way to sobs, and she buried her face in Cecelia's shoulder as she tried to cry away her pain. 


	6. Don't throw away the key to the cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry these are coming farther and farther apart! Thank you for sticking with me!

He could only call himself a fool and a thousand times worse, Phillip thought bitterly in the aftermath of that night. He had fallen in love with a woman who did not exist. Anne Wheeler was real. All too painfully so, he realized as her indifferent presence came to haunt his days at the circus. But whatever possible regard he believed her to have for him had been nothing but a fantasy.

She had rejected every advance he made with embarrassment. And how could he blame her? Not once had she asked for his help, even when she requested the loan. She had only taken what he had so readily, even insistantly, given. Telling him that she did not want to be in his debt, even calling him Romeo, he thought she was seeking the truth of his intentions. Instead, she had been warning him that their feelings were not the same.

He had been so blind that he had blundered right past them until she was forced to outright reject him. Phillip had been humiliated and had no one to blame but himself. Even Lettie had tried to warn him that with Anne there was no telling. She had cautioned him to tread carefully, and he had gone and thrown caution to the wind.

What had happened to the cynic he used to be, who had called every move women made against his? How had he been so duped?

In the midst of his turmoil, a package arrived from his Pembroke friend. Phillip considered throwing it into the fire without even reading it and then thought better of it and tossed it aside. The circus be damned. Barnum had used him for his connections. The ringmaster did not truly care about any of them, not Phillip, not the dancers, not the oddities. Perhaps not even his wife. He only cared for the prestige that they could bring him and the coveted place they could offer him among a bunch of people who would never accept him.   

Over Christmas, his mother noticed his brooding silence. She said nothing then to keep the peace but pressed him afterward to tell her what what had turned him so dark and distant. He retreated back to his house, but she followed under the guise of extending an invitation to a party.

“I don’t want to go,” he told her, braced against the fireplace in his drawing room.

“That is hardly a good enough reason,” she shot back.

“It’s good enough for me. I was not even invited. You were.”

“And I’ve asked you to come with me. Besides, I have already replied to the invitation and given your name to Mrs. Gryce,” his mother replied, drawing herself up as she did when preparing for a fight. Usually, against his father and sometimes with the twins but rarely with him.

“I don’t want to be rude, Mother,” he said shortly. His terseness caught her by surprise. She had anticipated him putting up an argument. Of course she would not expect it of him. He had always done as she wanted.

Agnes Carlyle deflated. “Phillip, please. Why won’t you talk to me?” she begged.

He looked at her, standing with her hands open and beseeching. What could he say? And what would she say when she learned that her son on whom she had placed so many of her hopes and schemes and dreams had fallen in love with a colored woman? He was not sure what was more unbearable--hearing the cruel words that others had used toward Anne come from his own mother’s mouth or keeping his love a secret as if he were ashamed of the woman who possessed it. His stomach clenched.

Did he truly love Anne if he could not even bear to acknowledge her to his family? Not that any of this mattered because Anne Wheeler could not care less about how he felt about her. But he wanted his mother’s understanding, not relief when she comforted him.

Phillip buried his face in his hand. His mother’s skirts rustled, and then her arms encircled him.

“What is it, darling? Why can’t you talk to me?” she murmured, stroking his hair.

He gritted his teeth. “It won’t change anything.”

“Phillip.” Her voice held a note of fear now. “Yes, yes it will. I can help you. What’s happened? I don’t understand. You were so happy, and now...is it something with the circus? Whatever is wrong your father and I can fix it. Then we’ll go abroad, and you can write and put on plays in London again and travel until everything here is but a distant memory. Then you can come back to a fresh start. You’ll have a new beginning with everything behind you.”

That was always his parents’ solution. Run until you could not remember what you were responsible for. Never face the messes you made, the people you hurt or who hurt you, even your duty to your country.

No, he could not keep running. That was one thing he was absolutely sure of. He had been running his whole life. He had run from his parents’ disapproval, from the war, even from his own discontentment. He had run from anything he feared would make his life difficult and was not any happier for it, only unable to stand himself.

He had joined the circus because Barnum showed him a place where he could make a difference, a place filled with people who had taken their lot in life and made the most of it. They depended on him as much as Barnum to protect what they had fought so hard to build for themselves and the first true home many of them had found.

He would not run from the circus. He would not run from his pain. And he would not run from Anne.

“I’ll go,” he agreed finally. “To the party."

“Phillip?” his mother asked uncertainly.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve worn my tails. I had better have them pressed,” he said, breaking away from her.

“Phillip!” he turned and looked at her. She suddenly appeared smaller than he could ever remember seeing her.

“Yes?”

“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing you can fix, Mother. And I’m not sure you would want to. It’s best to leave it alone.”

Her face fell, and she turned away to hide the tear that crept out of the corner of her eye. Instead of regret, anger surged in him. She would not be so understanding if she knew the true reason for his misery. _But she is your mother_ , he reminded himself. _And as my mother, my happiness should matter more to her than what the person I love looks like._

Phillip shook his head and trudged upstairs to get ready. He had not shaved in days.

It had been a few months since he had last attended a party. Tired of the condescending questions about his circus venture, jokes about the smell of peanuts, and either smiling or quipping away the choicest bits of the scathing reviews his friends quoted at him, he began to decline invitations and eventually they stopped coming.

However, the Carlyle name was not easily dismissed, and he was eagerly if slightly awkwardly welcomed back into the society fold when he arrived with his mother at the party that night. Reminded of his handsome face, the young women flocked back to him, willing to overlook or even intrigued by his eccentricity, as he quickly discovered his new line of work was called among his parents’ friends and acquaintances. It did not take take the men long to follow.

Phillip soon remembered what had bored him about most of the girls and now women he had been surrounded by his whole life. Hardly a one of them cared about who he was beyond his name, looks, and wealth.

Not all of them though. Penelope Vandorn greeted him with genuine pleasure. She wore a stunning hunter gown that brought out the green in her hazel eyes and alluringly accentuated her figure. Her dark hair was simply yet elegantly arranged and fell in thick waves over her shoulder.

“Your mother promised me you would be here, and here you are!” she exclaimed.

“Did she?” he laughed.

“I suppose I should not have expected anything less of Agnes Carlyle, but I had not heard from or seen you in so long, Phillip.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Penelope’s eyes twinkled and her smile turned mischievous. “Oh I know. I decided to see for myself where you had gone off to.”

He blinked in surprise. “You came to the circus?”

“I did! It was strange, unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but how delightful!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have…”

She raised an eyebrow. “Set aside the best seats? My dear friend, those were far easier to come by this time than they were at your plays,” she teased. 

Phillip grinned sheepishly and thanked her for going.

“Maybe next time you can give me a tour though. I would love to meet the bearded singer. I didn’t know what to expect before she opened her mouth, and then what a marvelous surprise. What a voice! And your trapeze artist! The one with the pink hair. How I envied her.”  

His smile faltered. “You mean Anne.”

“Anne?” Penelope genuinely laughed. “I hardly expected such a magnificent woman to have such a common name.” Seeing the look on his face, her humor vanished and she blushed. “Did I...I did not mean to offend in any way.”

Phillip assured her that she had not and abruptly changed the subject. Penelope looked worried but went along willingly, telling him of the Christmas she had planned for the children at an orphanage and how they had given her a beautiful collection of drawings.

“You find anything others do for you beautiful, Penny,” he told her jokingly. Growing up, they had all teased her about how easily she was pleased. If one of her maids remembered something she was particular about, Penelope thought the world of her. She cried when her cats brought her mice because she was fortunate to have such thoughtful pets.

“Well at least some of them were beautiful,” she amended with a laugh, “and all the others were kind.” 

As they talked, Phillip relaxed. Penelope was one of his oldest friends and as he had learned in recent months also one of his most true. While everyone else had been content to gossip about him, she had come to see what it was he was doing.

Then again, she had never quite fit in with the other girls her age. Although she blossomed into a beautiful woman, Penelope had started life off quite plain. She often overheard her own mother lamenting to her friends that she would have to bribe any man to take her daughter for a wife.

True to her mother’s prediction, no one came to court Penelope. At a ball where Phillip had been the only one to dance with her, and only because his mother had pestered him until he asked, he discovered her crying in an alcove. Her shaking shoulders and wrenching sobs nearly brought tears to his own eyes.

He had sat down with her unsure what to do but not wanting to leave her alone. At last she pulled herself together enough to talk. “You don’t have to be here,” she hiccuped. “You can tell your mother I’m fine.” 

Phillip had been embarrassed. Even though she had seen through his invitation, her voice held none of the accusation or anger that it should have.

When he did not move, she went on. “Really, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to ruin your evening. I just…” she sniffed and searched herself for a handkerchief to wipe her nose. That was one thing he could fix. He had handed her his.

She dabbed at her face, making him smile. “You can blow your nose, you know. My handkerchiefs have seen far worse.”

That made her laugh, and she ended up having no choice but to use it.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. “Usually, I tell myself that it doesn’t matter what I look like, what is most important in life is that I leave the world better than I found it. Who needs beauty as long as you are kind and generous and trying to do good for others, right?”

Phillip had stared at her, never having heard anything of the like come out of one of his peers’ mouth.

“Of course,” she had gone on, “that doesn’t always work. Oh!” She had blushed at his silence. “Please don’t think I am ungrateful that you were willing to dance with me. For what you did for me.” Her swollen eyes had taken on an amused gleam. “And it _was_ funny to see Sophia and Blanche wondering how _I_ had ended up dancing with the Phillip Carlyle.”

He had laughed with her and from then on, she was more than just the little girl he entertained when her mother was over for tea.

As he remembered the beginning of their friendship, an idea came to him. In the course of their conversation, they had drifted into the conservatory, providing them some privacy.

“Penny, I have something to ask of you. It would require keeping a secret, so if you do not want to do it, I will understand.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “I’d begun to forget how dramatic you can be. What is it?”

“My parents have forbidden Josephine and Lilian from seeing the circus, but I would like for them to come. Well, at least Josephine. Unfortunately, Lily couldn't keep a secret if all of heaven depended on it. Would you bring her? My mother would never question it if she were to join you on one of your outings. Josephine looks up to you so.”

She crossed her arms and arched a delicate eyebrow. “Phillip Carlyle, are you asking me to lie to your mother?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Penelope blushed. “A gentleman would never hold that over my head,” she admonished. But she was not angry.

“I’m not holding it over your head. I told you that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but I can’t help...you didn’t have to remind me,” she giggled. “Very well. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you Penny!” He swept her into a hug. “Just tell me when you can, and I will arrange everything else.”

“I will let you know the date by tomorrow.”

Phillip thanked her again, and feeling unburdened for the first time in a long while, he kissed her.    

__

Anne had always found solace in silence, and she had always found silence in the air. High above the ground, her thoughts could only extend as far as the apparatus that kept her safe. Everything else fell away.

Unfortunately, she could not live in her hoop or on the trapeze bar. To distract herself, she wrote to the address that she had for Miss Swann, now Mrs. Blake. Her letter described the books she had continued to read, her return to New York City, P.T. Barnum’s Circus, her visit with Mrs. Alston, but not a mention of the man who trailed in the thought of every line she composed.    

When she was not in the air, the night she told Carlyle that she did not return his feelings replayed over and over in her mind, even in her sleep, eventually leaving her exhausted and irritable. Sometimes she saw the look of anguish on his handsome face, the hurt in his eyes that he had tried to hide in his hands. Then the pit of guilt in her stomach would split open and threaten to consume every last part of her.

His respect for WD. The way he had dealt with the police. The flowers. His request for a chance. Carlyle was not interested in a tryst, as she had first suspected, making it easy to ignore his advances. For whatever reason, he had fallen for her and wanted to court her.

With that understanding, she agonized over the scene in the hansom, searching for any possible outcome other than the one she had chosen. Maybe she explained what would happen when he began to openly express his feelings for her. At first, the thrill of her acceptance might obscure what those outside the circus thought. Then, slowly, he would awaken to the stares of disgust on the street, the distance people began to put between themselves and him. He might convince himself that he could ignore them but eventually they would eat away at his resolve and his feelings for her as he realized all of the respect that he had lost. His name would no longer carry the weight or meaning that it did now. His family and friends would be less subtle, their displeasure swift and brutal. He would be forced into an agonizing decision: the world he knew and loved or Anne. And what was one woman against the world?

Or he proposed that their love be kept a secret, that the truth of what was between them would outweigh the lies they told the world. There were people who chose to live their lives this way. Anne was sure that she could not be one of them. For ten years she had lived looking over her shoulder, fearful of being discovered and now that she had her freedom, she did not want to ever live with that constant dread again.

Then he could move on. He gave up hope or lost interest and found a match that would not upset his life as it was. Or he fell for another forbidden woman willing to conceal their love, and Anne was left to wonder what could have been.  

There was a fourth option, unlikely as it was, that haunted her. She longed for it and feared it, so she hid the entire storm within her from even Cecelia and WD lest this one be spoken into action, leaving her forever uncertain of the outcome. She hated herself for how much she clung to the hope that it could be possible.

Phillip could choose her. He could see for himself all he stood to lose and still choose her. If, and only if, that were the case, then who was she to stop or deny him?   

The stubbornness with which she clung to that hope in the weeks after she shut him out eventually revealed to Anne a truth she had doggedly tried to ignore.

She arrived early at the circus one morning in early January hoping to clear her head after another restless night of sleep. This one had been disturbed by a nightmare in which she and WD were caught by slave catchers and dragged before their master. He had Phillip’s face. The handsome, good-natured features she had come to know were twisted and cruel with hate as he berated her for lying to him while she begged for his forgiveness. Anne woke with a jolt, terrified she had cried out aloud. But the others slept on.

Unable to go back to sleep, she dressed, dashed off a note, and left for the circus.

She expected to find it empty, but to her surprise, Helen and Caroline Barnum were there. Someone had let down her hoop so it hung low enough for the girls to sit on it.  

Among the girls’ favorite games was pretending to be Anne. One would hold onto the hoop, leaning back as far as she dared, a leg or both extended as the other spun her. At the moment, Caroline was Anne and Helen was doing the spinning.

“That’s not fair,” Helen was saying as Anne approached, wondering where their parents were. “I want to marry him.” Sand clung to her blond braid and the back of her dress. She must have fallen during her turn.

“I’m older,” Caroline said simply.    

“But I wanted to marry him first.”

“Did not!”

“Did too! You didn’t want to marry him until after I said it.” Helen caught sight of Anne. “Besides, he likes me better, doesn’t he, Anne?” she asked triumphantly.

Both girls looked at her expectantly. She raised an eyebrow. “Who likes you better?”

“ _Phillip_ ,” Caroline said impatiently. “And he does not. ”

"Does too!"

Anne’s face warmed. Of course the girls did not know what had been on her mind but the coincidence made it feel as if something had given her away.

“Why do you ask?” she stammered, trying to gather her suddenly scattered wits.

“Because if he likes me better, he’ll marry me.” Helen grinned. “And he likes me better, doesn’t he?”

Anne was not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry as she looked between the two sisters staring up at her waiting eagerly for an answer that they believed could be so simple. How she wished her life could be as uncomplicated.

Well, she may as well have a little fun with this. She wondered if Phillip would find it as amusing. “I’d say the best person to settle this would be Mr. Carlyle himself, wouldn’t you?”

Caroline blushed no longer so sure of herself. “I guess so.”

Anne smiled, feeling especially mischievous. “He would be lucky to have either of you beautiful ladies.”

Helen’s eyes lit up. What Anne had done was possibly mean, but she hoped that the sweetness of such innocent declarations of love would bring a smile to Phillip’s face. It had been so long since she had last seen him truly smile, and she hated knowing that she was the cause.  

Now that one of their idols was there, the girls gave up the hoop to follow her to her dressing room. She learned that their parents had come into the city early for a meeting at the bank. Anne let Caroline brush and style her hair while Helen made faces in the mirror pretending to apply makeup with Anne’s brushes.

“Your curls are so pretty,” Caroline sighed. “I’d never wear a wig if I had hair like yours.”

Anne laughed. “Are you telling me that you wear a wig?” she teased.

Caroline giggled and shook her head. Helen looked over. “How come you wear it anyway?”

“It keeps people’s attention.”

“I like it,” nodded Helen, going back to brushing her face. “I wish I had pink hair.”

Anne finally shooed them off so she could change into her practice clothes. The girls were back to playing when she returned to the ring but left off to follow her while she stretched.

Instead of practicing as she had intended, she spent the morning showing the girls how to hold themselves up in the hoop and do various poses. Dancing had made Caroline more flexible, but Helen was bolder. What few steps the older sister learned, she executed beautifully, and Anne could stand back to watch and correct her. Helen, on the other hand, she hovered over, worried that the younger girl would manage to flip herself out of the hoop and hurt herself.

She gladly relinquished the girls to their parents when they returned shortly before luncheon.

Anne had just changed back into her clothes when Cecelia arrived with food for her. She was accompanied by Deng, one of Barnum’s first hires.

Deng had auditioned the same day as WD and Anne, showing off a sword and bevy of knives that she could hurl as accurately at a moving target as she could a stationary one. The daughter of one of the Chinese emperor’s elite blacksmiths, she had grown up around weapons and handled them like extensions of her own body. Like Anne, she was an acrobat but her agility and flexibility had been honed through years of studying fighting arts.

After her father and older brothers were killed during the Taiping Rebellion, her younger brothers had come to America to try to make a new life building the transcontinental railroad. Deng and her mother had followed and lived with them in railroad camps where they earned money as cooks for the many Chinese laborers. Barnum was working on one of the lines out west when they first crossed paths. He had seen her performing to bring in extra money for her family. Neither had expected to see the other again, but her family had moved to New York City when the railroad was completed and when she had seen his ad in the paper, she came to see whether it was the very same Phineas T. Barnum she had known out west.

Cecelia opened her tin pail and set out enough food for the three of them. They ate in the bleachers and chatted. Deng had learned English among men with little connection to civilization, which meant her vocabulary was sprinkled with swear words and crude phrases that Anne appreciated for their creativity.

WD strolled in shortly after, taking a seat beside Deng, who hardly noticed. Like Cecelia, she seemed completely oblivious to the adoring attention men showered on her. As Octavia, Lettie, and others arrived, Caroline and Helen tripped down from their father’s office to join them, bringing cakes to share from their own lunch. They swarmed WD, another one of their favorites, and then settled in among the oddities and dancers, telling him, Constantine, and Charles about how Anne had taught them to use her hoop that morning and asking their mother for clothes like hers.

Anne had a feeling that Charity Barnum would be pulling her aside for a stern talking to soon but it was too late to consider that now.

She had all but forgotten the beginning of her morning when she suddenly became aware that Phillip had entered. As was usual for him now, he acknowledged everyone with a curt wave and hurried off across the ring toward the stairs to his office.

“Phillip?” Helen cried. She hurtled down the bleachers so quickly that Anne worried she might fall flat on her face.

He turned. No one had been more hurt by his recent aloofness than Helen, who adored him. He always listened to her stories and responded just as she wanted him to. In his office, he let her help him with tasks she could manage or let her paint in the corner with the watercolor set and easel he had given her for her birthday. Most of the time, she was admonished to stay out of people’s way since she could get hurt, but Phillip allowed her to stay underfoot, only sending her away on little errands that she was glad to do.

Now his office door stayed closed, and her parents would not let her disturb him.

Helen caught up to him and took his hand. Grinning, she asked loudly enough for her sister to hear, “Phillip, who do you like more? Me or Caroline?”

He smiled and chucked her chin. “Didn’t I tell you? You are two of the finest ladies I’ve ever met. I couldn’t choose.”

She shook her head. “But who do you want to marry?”

Anne ducked her head as Phillip’s eyes immediately shot toward her. He looked nonplussed setting off gales of laughter among the watching performers. “What?”

“Me or Caroline? Do you want to marry me or her?”

Phillip gaped, at a complete loss. Lettie and Charles cackled. “Let’s see you talk your way out of this one, Carlyle,” Constantine called.

He glared at them and then squatted down and took Helen’s hands in his. He spoke to her softly for several moments, their heads bowed together. When he let go of her, she threw her arms around him, whispered something in his ear, kissed his cheek and skipped back to her audience.

“Who did he choose?” someone asked.

Helen looked sad. “He said he’s very flattered to get two marriage proposals in one day but he can’t marry Caroline or me because he’s lost the key to his heart. And he can’t marry anyone until he finds it.”

“And what did you say?” Lettie asked, her eyes sliding to Anne.

“I told him I’d help him find it. Does anyone know what a key to a heart looks like?”

While the others laughed and tossed out the silliest answers they could think of, including her father’s ring of keys and a meal, Helen climbed into Anne’s lap.

She cradled the precious little girl against her. “Phillip said not to tell anyone else. But he thinks you can help me find the key,” Helen whispered conspirationally.

“Does he?” she whispered back, smoothing the girl’s frizz. “Did he tell you what it looks like?”

“No. But he said he trusts you’ll know it if you find it.”

Anne looked up. Phillip’s gaze was waiting for hers. He smiled down at her from where he stood at the top of the stairs, at first hesitant, and then when she returned it, his spread lighting his whole face.  

“Mr. Carlyle!” Mr. O’Malley called as he jogged into the arena. “These two ladies say they’re here for you.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Phillip Carlyle never had guests.

The woman that followed O’Malley in wore a fashionable fur-lined navy blue coat and carried her feathered hat in her gloved hands. Her glossy black hair spilled in ringlets over her shoulder and down her back, perfectly framing her unblemished face. She had large hazel eyes, an elegant nose, and sensual lips.

“Penny!” Phillip called, his voice filled with delight. He turned to run back down the stairs.

Beside the woman, hand clasped in hers, was a girl, about ten years old, who could only be one of Phillip’s twin sisters. She looked like a miniature, female version of her brother, although her dark hair had some red in it that his did not.

Seeing the benches full of people, the woman blushed. “Thank you, Mr. O’Malley. Phillip told us to come any time after luncheon, but I believe we are far earlier than he expected.”

Anne stared. This woman was certainly not Phillip’s mother. But they spoke so familiarly to one another...

Her heart began to sink. Penny, as Phillip called her, was beautiful. And wealthy.

“Flip!” his sister cried breaking away from the woman and running to meet her brother. She leapt, and he caught her, spinning her around just as he sometimes did with the Barnum girls. Anne’s heart fluttered. The woman laughed, hurrying after the little girl.

Anne clutched Helen to her as she watched Phillip clasp the hand the woman offered. He gave her one of his rare smiles. Even Anne had to admit that they looked wonderful together, like a couple out of a painting. The woman perfectly suited his height too. Next to her, Anne was a giant.

Phillip kept hold of his sister’s hand and took the lady’s to lead them closer to the cluster of performers.

“Penny, Josephine, this is the troup. Everyone, I’d like you to meet my dear friend Penelope Vandorn and my sister Josephine Carlyle.” He began introducing them one by one. Caroline waved to Josephine who waved back with an excited smile.

As the woman eagerly followed along, the ache in Anne’s chest tightened until she could hardly breathe. She clutched Helen so tightly that the girl finally wriggled free, leaving Anne to sit with her back ramrod straight.

“And that’s Anne.”

She snapped to attention at the sound of her name. The woman was smiling up at her. “I was telling Phillip how I envied you for your performance.” Of course her voice was melodic.

Anne had to pry her lips open. “How kind.” Her tone indicated that she felt anything but. Both the woman and Phillip looked at her in surprise, and his sister frowned.

Someone kicked her in the back.

She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “I mean, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I just realized I ought to start getting ready.”

Then she practically fled, leaving Penelope Vandorn and the others to watch after her in amazement.

Anne sank into the seat of her vanity and buried her face in her hands. She should be glad to see that Phillip had found such a beautiful woman to bestow his affections on. He did not deserve to be unhappy forever because of her. In fact, it was best that he move on, and they forget everything that had happened in that carriage.

The curtains scraped against their rod. “May I come in?”

It was Penelope Vandorn.

Anne whipped around. The woman was alone.

“Phillip is showing Josephine around. I asked to have a word with you. It’s not too cold. Would you care for a walk?”

On one hand, she had already been rude so it would not be too far removed to refuse the woman’s invitation. On the other, Penelope Vandorn had done nothing to deserve any unkindness.

Anne stood and gathered her coat, tying her scarf around her neck to hide the faint stains on its front.

She showed the woman to the alleyway, and together they emerged onto the street.

Penelope did not waste any time once she was sure they only had passerby to overhear them. “Phillip was taken aback by your running off. He did everything possible to explain it away.”

Anne flushed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“If I may be bold, I think I understand. But first, I should tell you that I am Mrs. Vandorn. I would have taken my gloves off but an unfortunate accident as a child means my hands are very sensitive to the cold.”

Now Anne’s face burned. She did not know what to say, so she mumbled, "I see."

“I have known Phillip for a very long time. Our mothers are dear friends, and he became one of my dearest friends. For the last few years, he has been...restless. I was hardly surprised when he joined a circus, although it came as a shock to his parents. They were not, as you might understand, particularly happy about it. But for the first time in a long while, Phillip was content. Beyond content, he was truly happy. We were relieved that he had finally found something that he enjoyed.”

“But just before Christmas, his mood unexpectedly plummeted. He was morose and at times seemingly heartbroken. Nothing his mother said could convince him to confide in her. Of course, if she had come to the circus, as I had, she might have begun to figure it out. But she is a creature of her class.”

Here Penelope smiled up at Anne who was struck by the woman’s easy demeanor. She hardly seemed conscious of the differences between them and instead spoke as she would to an old acquaintance.

“The night I saw Phillip at a party, I made the mistake of laughing when he told me your name. If you'll forgive me, I thought a woman who could fly would have a grand name.” Her smile turned apologetic. “Or perhaps it was not a mistake because his reaction was my first clue to what had come over him. I won’t embarrass you with all of the details but it became quite clear that he adores you. I am only here today to escort Josephine. She came without her parents’ knowledge since they forbade Phillip from telling his sisters about the circus. But he has told her about it and about you, and she was looking forward to meeting you.”

Anne’s heart had been hammering through Penelope’s tale, and she wished more than anything that she could take back their introduction. The woman laid a hand on her arm.

“Please forgive me. I assumed from the way he spoke that you had either ended your relationship with him or rejected him. It was not until I saw you that I understood.”

“I turned him down. You did not misunderstand anything,” Anne said quietly.

Penelope threw her head back and laughed. “I have had my fair share of experience hiding my feelings, Anne. I know what a longing woman looks like so I don’t think you turned him down because you don’t return his regard.”

Her mouth was suddenly dry as this stranger came closer to stating the truth that only Lettie had dared to probe. She wished there were a way to make her stop, but also she was so tired of running, of hiding.

They had come to a park where several children ran about the grass in a frantic game of tag. Penelope paused to watch them play.

“I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in your place. I’ve loved men that would never love me back, but I have never loved someone whose life could be ruined for it.”

Anne turned on the woman. “If you brought me here just to threaten me, I can assure you that I am not going to ever let him know how I feel.”

Penelope shook her head sadly. “I did not bring you here to threaten you, Anne. I brought you here to tell you that if you love him as he loves you, I am one friend that he will not lose because of it.”

Everything in her went numb, and Anne gripped the fence as she swayed, her heartbeat ricocheting through her body.

The woman blinked up at the sky. “The doctor has told me that I cannot bear children. He blames it on a fever that I had as a child. Not a single one of my little ones has survived long enough to take a breath, you know. I've lost several my husband never even knew about.”

“Too many people are careless with love. It is such a precious thing.” She looked at Anne. “I will not pretend that Phillip could lose almost everything if he were to openly confess his love for you. That must feel like an impossible burden for you to bear. But I have known Phillip my whole life, and I have never known him to love casually or recklessly. You must be a remarkable woman, Anne Wheeler. Phillip could love no less.”

Penelope gathered herself, brushing the dust from her gloves and arms. “Of course, he would fall in love with a woman too selfless to admit she loves him.” She grinned. “I’ve always told him he’s too melodramatic for his own good.”

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Anne searched the woman's eyes, which although open, held unfathomable depths. 

"Tell him what?" Penelope's face was kind but unyielding.

Her grip on the fence tightened. She felt like she was falling. Penelope reached out and took her free hand in her gloved ones. "Anne."

She had only just met this woman. She knew nothing about her other than what she had chosen to reveal. She should not trust her, her mind screamed. But Anne had spent so much time listening to her head, blocking everything out of her heart. 

"How I feel," Anne whispered at last.

Penelope squeezed her hand. "And how do you feel?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if I can love him enough to overcome everything that keeps us apart."

"Oh Anne, that's not something you can ever know where you are right now. What matters now is whether you care enough for him to give him a chance."

That is all he had asked of her. For a chance. And when Anne opened her heart, she knew that everything in her wanted that chance. It terrified her--so much could go wrong--but she wanted it. She wanted him. How she wanted him, to run to him as Caroline and Helen did, and feel his arms around her, strong and certain as they  were when he had lifted her out of the wagon. She wanted him laughing with her, undaunted by her determination and what she believed. She wanted Phillip, attempting to do what was right, willing to accept people for who they were instead of who he wanted them to be, caring more about what was meaningful than what impressed.

"I do."

Penelope smiled. Anne found it hard to believe that she had not always been beautiful. "Then start with a chance. Everything else will come as it will, for better or for worse. And even if it is the worst, at least you had a chance."

"So you won't tell him?"

“Oh no! This will all be complicated enough without my meddling. I'll leave that to you. Although I _will_ have a word with him about introducing me without my prefix!” 

Anne laughed, suddenly feeling lighter than she had in a long while. Thinking of how disappointed Phillip must be at how poorly the introduction to his sister had gone, she tried to come up with a way to make it up to him. She remembered that he often kept candies in his pockets for the Barnum girls. He must do the same for his sisters. She asked if Penelope could help her select a sweet or two for the little girl at a shop along the way.

Phillip’s old friend smiled. “I know just the thing.”


	7. Comfort, the enemy of progress (and other things)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! Chapter 7 is here. And don't worry, they'll be on their way to England very soon. 
> 
> Taking this space/moment to acknowledge and thank y'all for leaving the sweetest, most thoughtful comments--you're the best! And I can't say enough how much I love hearing your thoughts on the characters, how things are unfolding, and of course, our favorite couple. Penelope and Josephine are definitely among my two favorite OCs, and we haven't seen the last of them. Thank you!!
> 
> Also, I love your questions about the historical context for the piece. I probably should have said this earlier, but this story is set in 1870/1871, which is when P.T. Barnum historically created his circus. The museum that we see in the movie, which was located at Broadway and Ann in Manhattan, burned in 1865 and again, for the final time, in 1868. In one of The Greatest Showman clips, Zac Efron mentions that the film is set in the 1880s but since this is way later than any of the actual events on which the musical is based, I have chosen to ignore it. For the historical nerds, 300 Mulberry Street, the police headquarters, is the same one featured in Gangs of New York, which is set in 1863 during the Civil War draft riots, which is when, in my story, Anne and WD first lived in Manhattan. Glad to answer any other questions you have to the best of my ability!
> 
> Enjoy!

It really was time for Anne to get ready when they returned. With a parting hand squeeze, Penelope set off in search of Phillip and Josephine.

WD looked relieved when she appeared in their dressing room. “Where have you been?”

“A walk,” she replied. She kissed him on the cheek. “No streetcars, I promise. Just clearing my mind.”

He shook his head, smiling thinly at her attempt to make him laugh. “You’d better get dressed now.”

Anne could tell that something was weighing on him, but years ago they had learned to keep their minds and the air between them clear before they performed. Their success and safety depended on it. Whatever he wanted to say, mostly likely about Phillip, would be said later.

Despite her brother’s concern, Anne could not help the giddy rush that came over her, knowing that Penelope and Josephine would be watching that night. Only once before had she had someone come to see her--Miss Swann. She was extra attentive while applying her makeup and fussed with her wig.

If WD noticed how much slower she was at getting ready that night, he said nothing. But he watched, arms folded, his expression thoughtful. Several times, their eyes met in the mirror, and she smiled at him.

Really, there was no one in the world that she needed besides her brother. From her first memories, he had always been there holding her, protecting her, guiding her, her rock. She remembered falling asleep against him as he sang to her, crying on his shoulder over her fears, hurts and heartbreaks, and laughing as they worked and learned together.

Women had come and gone in his life but none had ever been around for long. She had accidentally witnessed his first kiss, which led to one of their few fights and him not speaking to her for a few days. But through it all she was always his first priority. Anne saw the way he looked at Deng, and although she did not know how to break it to him that the woman he admired would never like him as he liked her, she wanted him to find happiness and make a life that she was only part not all of.

It scared her to think that there could be a time when they had to let one another go. They had been all one another had for so long. Was it possible that anyone could make her heart swell the way it did when she thought about how much she loved her brother?

She wondered if his thoughts were running in the same vein as he watched her.

When she finished lacing up her boots, WD held his hands out to her, palms up. Outside the crowd cheered and stomped its excitement. Just beyond the curtains of their space, Lettie was warming up her voice. The show was well along.

As was their tradition, Anne placed her hands over his rough and calloused and strong ones. His folded around hers. They locked eyes, his dark, hers light.

“Remember, I will always catch you,” he told her solemnly.

“And I will always trust you to catch me," she replied.

WD grinned. “Let’s leave their jaws on the floor.”

Before he could let go, she gripped his hands. “I love you, WD.”

He looked surprised by her fervor, and then he was hugging her so hard her ribs hurt, but she did not mind. She buried her face in his neck.

“I love you too, Anne.”

There was still some time before their act so they meandered out to mingle with the others backstage. Deng, Constantine, and Alec waved them over to the couches beneath the stairs and made room for them.

“Can’t go out back tonight. Alley’s full of protesters,” Constantine told them. “Guess the police could only hold them off for so long.”

WD sighed, flopping down in the space beside Deng. “Let ‘em protest. As long as the place is full every night and we’re getting paid, the jokes on them.”

“So long as they keep their hands off us,” Alec tossed his hair. His stage name was Dog Boy and at the moment he did look like a dog with its hackles raised.

WD grinned recklessly. “They’d probably take one look at this little lady here with her sword and knives and high tail it out of there.”

Deng sneered, caressing one of the knife hilts on her bodice. “Ain’t none of those fuckers worth a one of my bloody knives.”

“On second thought, just your tongue might be enough. Your language would burn the ears off an angel.”

Anne rolled her eyes at her brother’s flirting, then shot the swordswoman a look to warn her not to encourage him. She winked. “I’m up next,” she announced, bouncing up. “Wish me luck.”

“You’re too good to need it,” WD told her, following her from the couch. “But good luck anyway.”

Deng grinned over her shoulder, made a rude gesture, and unsheathed her sword. At the band’s cue, she ran out into the arena to wild cheers.

Anne tugged WD away from the ring’s entrance. They were on after and needed to get ready. After warming up on her own, she joined her brother so that they could stretch together. As they moved fluidly from one pose to the next, she listened for the end of Deng’s act.

In the arena, the crowd let out a collective gasp. Deng was performing her latest trick where blindfolded she stepped on a trigger in the floor that snapped up a row of targets and in rapid succession buried knives in each of them. The roar of applause meant that, as usual, she hit every one of them.

Deng waved as she passed them on her way out of the ring. Anne and WD were up.

A thrill ran down her back as she jogged out, waving her arms to the crowd. On one side of the ring, she wound her wrist through the dangling rope and placed her other hand over it as WD did the same across from her.

Then the counterweights were loosed, and she was spinning toward the ceiling, the ground swooping out from under her.

Anne’s body took over as she swung herself to her high board, letting her wrist slide free as the crew hauled her onto it. Someone handed her the trapeze. Her hands ran the length of the fly bar and she leaned back, giving it a firm tug to test its give. Everything felt sound.

Then she leapt. Sailing through the air, she let go and flipped. WD’s hands grabbed hers, and she wound her wrists through his as they swung together. When he released her, Anne spun mid-air and caught her bar. They did several more passes before she returned to her ledge to watch as he did his solo performance.

Whereas Anne’s artistry highlighted her flexibility, her brother’s was pure strength as he used his weight to keep his momentum while he somersaulted and twisted through the air.

Then it was her turn. As the crew helped her to settle into a sitting position on the bar, she caught sight of Phillip watching her across the way, right where he had been the night they first met. Only this time, Penelope stood to his left, his sister on his right. Caroline Barnum was with them.

She gave them a smile she hoped they knew was for them alone. Josephine and Caroline clapped their hands and waved.

When she was ready, Anne jumped, plummeting over the crowd.

Once the trapeze’s swing leveled, she reached up and pulled herself into a standing position. Pumping her legs until she was swaying well across the ring, Anne leapt on the back swing, landing one footed on the fly bar. Then she brought her other foot up as she swung forward and flipped herself in the air, throwing her legs wide to catch herself upside down on the wires. Twirling and arching her back up on the next back swing, she came right side up so that she was sitting again.

After a few swings back and forth, she stood once more and performed several single footed hops and then a full jump free of the bar before she swung her legs through the wires and dropped back onto her rear.

From there, she let herself fall back until she was upside down again, held up only by her feet and ankles. This time, she reached up with both hands, gripped the bar and slid her legs off so that she was hanging by her arms. She did a few twists, then pulled herself up and folded her torso over the bar. As the trapeze flew back toward her high board, she flipped herself around to move the bar from her torso to behind her knees.

Her chest arched upward and her arms stretched before and beside her as she sailed over the crowd’s heads. Coming level with the balcony where he stood, her eyes met Phillip’s as they had on that first night. 

He reached for her as if to catch the hand she extended toward him. 

Then she was yanked away.

Below, the audience went wild as she pulled herself back up sit on the fly bar. From above, Phillip’s eyes held hers as she swung back and forth until the crew hauled her back up onto her platform.

For the finale of their act, Anne leapt from her trapeze to catch WD. He let them swing until her weight steadied him. Then he lifted his hands and tossed her. Keeping herself as straight as possible, Anne flipped until he caught her ankles. Over and over, she wheeled through the air as he caught her first right side up then upside down. The crowd was on its feet by the time WD swung her out so that she was horizontal to the ground and let go. Anne dropped, arms crossed tightly over her chest, to land in her spotters’ arms. They set her down while a rope lowered her brother from his bar.

WD allowed her to take her curtsy before his bow and then they curtsied and bowed together. A trumpet announced the return of the band. As the music played, the oddities and dancers swarmed the ring, Barnum in the lead, whirling his cane over his head and around him as if commanding every move the performers made.

Her brother’s strong hands caught Anne around her waist and lifted her into the air. They were part of the circle that surrounded the ringmaster. Each of the men held a woman up and on cue launched her to his right. Sean caught Anne, let her slip horizontally down his torso to spin her, then lifted her again to toss her back to WD.

Charles dressed as Napoleon rode around the perimeter of arena on his pony as the entire troupe danced the finale. The band played on as they bowed and curtsied to the thunderous applause, whistles, and stamping of their audience. Blowing kisses and waving, they trotted out of the ring.

In the midst of their exit, Cecelia grabbed Anne’s hand, tugging the taller woman after her. She was saying something that Anne could not hear above the noise. Once backstage, they did not slow. Craning her neck around, Anne tried to see whether Phillip had come down from the balcony, but her friend yanked her forward.

“Come on, you might not have long,” she was saying.

“Long for what?”

Cecelia did not reply but hurried her to her dressing room and shoved Anne in. Then she was gone.

Anne suddenly found herself alone with Phillip, Penelope, and Josephine. Phillip wasted no time. “Anne, you’ve met Penelope, and this is my sister Josephine. Josephine, this is Anne.”

Stunned, her mind went blank, leaving her to gape stupidly at her guests.   

“You were marvelous,” Penelope exclaimed, stepping in to cover for Anne. “Wasn’t she Josephine?”

“Better than everyone said,” the little girl agreed, breathless with admiration. "You're not what I expected but Flip's still right. You're so beautiful that..." Phillip's face lost all color and then went bright red.  

"Josephine," he hissed, cutting her off. Penelope's hand covered her mouth, but she could not hide the laughter in her eyes. His sister looked up at her brother a little too innocently, and Anne remembered and mildly regretted all the times she had done the same to WD. However, the recollection was what she needed to regain her composure.

To her guests' surprise, she giggled. “Thank you. I’m glad you could come. And Josephine, I have something for you.”

Phillip's sister looked surprised. “For me?”

“Yes. It’s there. On my vanity. In the bag.”

Phillip and Penelope turned to watch as Josephine retrieved the small paper bag that held the candies Penelope had promised she loved. Anne had not been led astray for Josephine gasped when she pulled them out, and cried, “My favorites! Oh, thank you! How did you know?”

Feeling relieved, and embarrassed by the look Phillip gave her, Anne smiled. “I had some help.”

Josephine turned to her brother. “May I?”

He chucked her under the chin. “Of course.” Phillip placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders as she eagerly unwrapped her treat and popped it into her mouth. “We didn’t mean to intrude, Anne, but Josephine and Penelope wanted to congratulate you after your performance.”

“It’s not an intrusion at all,” she assured him shyly, “I’m very honored that you would introduce them to me.”

“I wish it had been sooner,” he apologized. His eyes begged her to understand all the things he could not say aloud. Against his parents’ wishes, he had brought his sister to the circus. He had gone out of his way to introduce her to Anne, and it was clear that he was eager for Josephine and her to like one another.

Penelope was anxiously looking between them.

Gathering herself, Anne met his gaze squarely. “I know it wasn’t up to you.”

A look of hope returned to Phillip’s face, and she dropped her eyes. He still believed that what he wanted could be so easy.

“I hope you can come again,” she told Josephine.

The girl smiled broadly. “Me too!”

Penelope placed her hand on Josephine’s back. “It has been a pleasure to meet you Anne, but we must go. It is already later than I promised to return Josephine home. Come Phillip. We should leave Anne to change.”

Josephine bade her farewell and thanked her again for the candies. Penelope shook her hand, and then pulled a reluctant Phillip after her, reminding him that their coats were in his office.

Anne was removing her wig when WD came in.

“Whose idea was it for the ambush?” he asked, stripping off his vest.

“Ambush?” she asked, confused.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to determine how honestly innocent her expression was. “Since when does everyone feel the need to congratulate me on my performance and ask me to drinks?”

She blinked, trying to figure out what he was talking about, and then it dawned on her. Why Cecelia had grabbed her and run her off after the show. What her friend meant by warning that she might not have long.

Seeing the look of understanding come over her face, WD scowled. Anne began to laugh to cover her embarrassment. Did everyone know what was going on with her and Phillip?

“I had no idea,” she told him. She set the wig on its stand. “I promise.”

That did not improve WD’s mood. “What did he have to say to you anyway?”

Anne sobered. “He wanted to introduce his sister to me.”

Her brother did not miss the significance of that. His expression darkened into a scowl before he tugged the curtain closed between them.

“WD,” she said pleadingly.

“I don’t want to talk about it here.”

That was fair. She would rather not have their conversation overheard either, especially considering everyone else felt the need to involve themselves. With a sigh, she stripped off her leotard and pulled on her street clothes.

Drinks that evening had been agreed upon, and Anne was coaxed into joining. Phillip bought the first round, which further soured WD’s mood. Lettie saw him open his mouth and swept him away before he could loudly put his foot in it.

Meanwhile, Anne pulled Cecelia into a corner, ignoring the tankard that was passed to her.

“Whose idea was it to bring him backstage after?” she wanted to know.

Her friend crossed her arms. “If it takes the edge off your anger or WD’s, I’ll take all the blame.”

Anne shook her head. “I’m not angry, just feeling a little...betrayed. You know how complicated this all is, Cece. I don’t want to encourage him.”

“I didn’t do it for him, Nee.” Before Anne could express her surprise or protest, Cecelia plowed on as if she had been waiting a long time to say what was on her mind. “I of all people know how hard this could be, and believe me, I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t seen how much you were suffering for it.”  

“You haven’t slept the full night through since you rejected him. You were better at hiding it than he was at the circus, but you haven’t been fully present since. Do you realize how many times Lettie, Octavia, or I have had to call you back to a conversation? You’ve burned supper three times because you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was never a good cook to begin with,” Anne mumbled, embarrassed.  

Cecelia waved that aside. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks. I have no idea what’s going through your head anymore! Why are you doing this to yourself if you care for him?”

Anne slumped against the wall. “His parents don’t know that his sister came today. She was forbidden to know anything about the circus. Cece, he could lose everything before he even realized it was gone.”

Her friend raised her eyebrows. “Do you really think he’s that stupid?”

No, she did not think that Phillip was stupid. But he had never lived a life like hers. Anyone could think they could do something until they truly had to do it.

When she did not answer, Cecelia closed her eyes as if asking for patience. “I understand why with everything you’ve known you don’t believe you can trust him. And I know it won’t be easy. But there are those of us in the world who _do_ believe that love is worth what it takes.”

She pulled Anne over to a two person table where no one could join them. The music was starting up anyway and would hopefully keep everyone distracted. And if that did not, Barnum was already ordering the next round of drinks. 

When they were seated, Cecelia leaned forward. “I don’t know why I’ve kept this from you for so long. Maybe I just forgot.” She chuckled. “You already know how it ends. But I guess it's time to tell you why I ran away from home."

“As you know, my family was one of several prominent and wealthy colored families in Tulsa. When I turned 19, my mother started seriously considering potential marriages for me. Out there, they're as concerned about protecting their legacy as these New York society folks are. There were several young men she had her eye on, and she was worried that if she waited too long, they would be married to others. I told her that I never wanted to marry. We fought bitterly, and to appease my father, I agreed that I would reconsider and my mother promised to wait.”

“Then everything seemed to happen at once. I fell in love with Florence, the older sister of one of the men that my mother wanted me to marry. Preston Davison, one of the families’ sons just back from college on the East Coast, ran off with a poor, uneducated, dark skinned girl, setting all of them off in a marrying frenzy. With the question raised again, my mother and I had an explosive argument, and I convinced Florence to run away with me. We pawned my jewelry and took the first train out.”

Cecelia sighed. “I never should have taken her with me. In a month, she tired of our sparsely led life. We fought constantly, and when I woke up one morning, she had taken what money I had and gone.”

“My father and sister found me in Chicago and begged me to come home. I told them I couldn’t live the lie that my mother wanted me to. When they saw they could not change my mind, my father gave me most of the money in his wallet. We all knew that if I did not return with them then, my mother would never acknowledge me again. Sure enough, she wrote me a letter shortly after their visit to make her position clear. Somehow she had convinced Florence to tell her the 'truth' of the whole matter. As the story went, I seduced her and forced her to come with me. There was no going home after that."

“I miss my sister. My father has since passed away, God bless him. But I don’t regret leaving that life behind. I know it may seem impossible that a life with every material comfort could be suffocating enough to be worth giving up, but sometimes the things you find outside of it are so much greater. Maybe Carlyle would be happier with you and us than wallowing away in his plush cage.”

Cecelia smiled. “It did not take long to see that the adoration between Phillip and his sister is mutual. If he wanted you to meet her, he’s trying, best he can. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Anne nodded automatically, still trying to take in her friend’s story. Here was Cecelia, sitting before her, entirely happy with the choices that she had made in her life, with no anger or resentment over what she lost for it. Perhaps it _was_ possible that one day Phillip could feel the same. For her.

Her friend reached out and gripped her arm. “I’m here for you and on your side no matter what happens, Nee. That is,” she added, looking around, “after I rescue Deng from your brother. Maybe it’s about time he figured things out, don’t you think?” She winked.

“Cece!” Anne called after her. Cecelia turned. “Send him over here so I can set him straight. And thank you.” It had been long in coming but at last they shared the smile of women whose friendship has led them to sisterhood. Cecelia came back to place a tender kiss on her friend's forehead before she set off to save her lover. 

WD was a few shots in by the time he dropped into the vacant seat across from her. He shoved a tankard across the table. “Cecelia says you want to talk.” By then the music and dancing were in full swing, and there was little worry that anyone would bother to leave the merriment to listen in. 

She grinned, accepting the drink. Alcohol more often than not improved her brother's mood. If left alone, he could befriend an entire pub or tavern in an evening of drinking. “It’s about time you leave Deng alone. Can’t you tell when a lady’s not interested?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe she’ll come around.”

“It definitely won’t be to your way of thinking,” she told him gently. He frowned, puzzling out her words. “I know I’m younger but trust that there are some things your sister knows best.”

WD ran a hand over his hair and sat back, hanging one arm off the back of his chair. “Haven’t been so sure of that lately.”

“Because of Phillip.” It was useless to beat around the bush.

Her brother smirked. “So he’s Phillip now?”

Anne shrugged. “Possibly. I don’t know.”

“You know I don’t like liars.”

“He’s never lied.”

“I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking ‘bout you.”

She ran her fingers over the tankard, finding its cool exterior comforting. “If I lied, I didn’t mean to. I just...I was worried about you. About what you would think. You’re the most important person in the world to me, and if it hurt you, if it does...and that doesn’t even begin to get into everything else about this that I keep telling myself…”

“Whoa, whoa,” her brother interrupted, sitting up. “What?”

“You kept warning me,” she whispered, dropping her head.

His strong fingers slipped under her chin and raised her face. “It’s too loud in here for you to be whispering. What did you say?”

“You kept warning me,” she repeated, blinking back tears.

A slow grin spread across his long face, lighting his dark eyes. “Well I’m glad my words mean something to you. But I’d be a dunce if I hadn’t learned by now that you’re too hard-headed to listen to anyone’s sense but your own.”

“That’s not true!”

“Fine. You might listen, but you’re gonna to do what you want,” he conceded. “What happened tonight? I don’t like that stuff. I know now it’s not your fault. Nor was it his.” He darted a glare in Lettie’s direction. “I’m not gonna pretend I think it’s a good idea, but if it’s what you want and his intentions are honest, then I guess I gotta keep my mouth shut for a bit.” 

She lifted an eyebrow. “Just a bit?”

“For now.” His smile softened. “You’ve been caught up in that head of yours, haven’t you, Annie? Running yourself in ragged circles.” 

Anne took a sip from her tankard to wet her dry mouth. “What about my father?”

WD nearly spilled his drink down his front. “What about him?” he asked, slamming his tankard back down on the table.

“I just thought that, well, Phil-Carlyle, reminded him you of him.”

Her brother shifted uncomfortably and drummed his fingers on his chair, gazing off for a few moments. When he looked back at her, there was such deep sadness in his eyes that she regretted bringing it up in the first place. “He worried me at first, I’ll admit. But that man watched his wife nearly kill our mother and did nothing but sell us off. Carlyle would have torn apart the whole police department and then the streetcar line if the conductor that hit you hadn’t been brought in. Those are two entirely different kinds of men.”

WD rose, taking his tankard with him. “I need another drink after this talk, but do something for me?”

Anne looked up and nodded. She would do almost anything for him.

“Don’t ever call that piece of shit, son of a bitch your father again. You don't deserve it."


	8. So tell me do you wanna go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go lovely, beautiful, fabulous readers!! 
> 
> I'm so sorry this whole fic has become way longer than I expected, but I promise there is an end and everything will add up!! Thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey.
> 
> Also my apologies for any goofs. I write most of these chapters between the hours of 8 pm and 4am.

Although Captain Berghold had agreed to do his best to curb the growing number of protesters in the alley, Phillip was not surprised the night O’Malley called Barnum out back to deal with a disturbance in the alley.

“Phillip keep up,” Barnum called over his shoulder as he dashed toward the stage door. Phillip left off his conversation with WD with a hasty apology and sprinted after the ringmaster.

Barnum and O’Malley were already in the alley when he came up behind them. Outside, an angry mob carrying torches and signs demanding a boycott of the circus filled the street from wall to wall. Incited by their appearance, the mob surged forward. Anger and disgust twisted the protesters’ faces as they screamed insults at the three men.

“Nothing draws a crowd quite like a crowd,” Barnum said grimly. Phillip marveled how a man who spent so much of his life creating spectacle could fail to appreciate the gravity of the one before him. These people were not here for a show. They were here to destroy everything he had built.

“Go home, you freaks!” someone yelled as the three of them took in the enraged scene. Others joined the shouting, launching cruel insults at the troupe. Phillip turned back inside to see Lettie and several of the performers hurrying toward him and motioned for them to go back. For now the mob was venting its anger at Barnum, but Phillip was worried things might get violent if they caught sight of one of the performers.

“Leave New York City!”

“Freaks!”

Barnum had seen and heard enough. Shaking his fist, he bellowed, “Clear out of my alley or I’ll call the police on you hooligans!” In response, a bottle shattered at his feet, and he jumped back, hauling O’Malley with him.

“Get inside,” he ordered gruffly, shoving the box office salesman through the stage door. “No use starting a riot.”

Phillip moved out of their way as Barnum yanked the door closed behind him and threw the deadbolt.

“Guess no one’s goin’ out that way t’night,” O’Malley observed, thumbs tucked into his suspenders as they all looked at one another. The man had a habit of stating the obvious when he wanted instructions.

“Right,” said Barnum, his hair on end from running his hand through it. “Warn everybody to stay away from the alley and use the front entrance. Try to get them out while the audience is still leaving. No one is to go alone.” 

O’Malley set off to do as he was told. Barnum turned to Phillip. “I suppose we’ve got as much help from the police as we’re going to get?”

Phillip nodded. “As long as they're not doing any harm to the property, we can only tell them to go away.”

His partner set his hands on his hips and blew out threw his lips. “Just what we need right now,” he grumbled. “You willing to stay awhile? In case they decide to do something with those torches.”

“Of course,” he agreed, although he was not sure what the two of them would be able to do against a whole mob.

Barnum patted his shoulder. “Good man. I’m going to make sure Charity and the girls get off safely.”

Left alone, Phillip went in search of Anne and found her and Lettie waiting for their friends. “Did O’Malley tell you what’s going on?”

“He did,” Lettie nodded. “The girls are changing fast as they can.”

“How are you getting home?”

Anne pulled her shawls tighter around her. “Don’t worry, Phillip. WD is going to walk us to the streetcar.”

“Here.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a bill. “If you have to wait for long, take a carriage instead. This should be enough to persuade a driver to take the four of you. Don’t hesitate to use it. I don’t want any of those people outside coming across you.”

Anne hesitated but finally took the offered money. “Thank you.”

He smiled in relief, grateful that she had not put up a fight. “Get home safe,” he told them before hurrying off to be sure everyone else had heard to avoid the alley. He did not want anyone accidentally running into that mob and getting hurt.

He also did not want Anne to see the grin nearly splitting his face after hearing his name on her lips.

Barnum released most of the crew early, promising the few who stayed more pay for the extra work they would have to do. At last joining Phillip at the window overlooking the alley below, he observed with some satisfaction, “It’s mellowed some since the end of the show.”

Half of the protesters had drifted off once the audience left. Those left seemed to have lost interest in the building in favor of heckling passerby with their demands.

The circus owner rubbed the back of his neck. He had not performed that night so he wore a suit instead of his red jacket. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his cravat hung loose beneath his unbuttoned vest. As rich as he had become, Barnum would always end up looking like a man who worked for a living. The habit would not endear him to society, but Phillip admired it. “If this keeps up, we might have some trouble.”

Phillip crossed his arms, doing some quick figures in his head. “A few weeks of low turnout won’t be the end of us. The show has enough assets for us to apply for a loan without any personal risk if needed. By then they will have hopefully bored of this. I’m worried most about everyone’s safety.”

Behind them the arena began to darken as the remainder of the crew doused the lights.

Barnum snorted. “That’s one thing I’m not worried about. It’s a rough and tumble group. Anyone’ll put up a damn good fight if they have to. We didn’t make it this far without having to throw a few punches.”

“Still. I’d rather not have anyone putting themselves at risk.”

The older man gave him one of his signature lopsided grins. “Didn’t realize when I brought you on I was hiring someone to do all my worrying for me.” He clapped Phillip on the back. “Come on. Live a little.”

“Well someone has to do it,” Phillip mumbled, causing his partner to laugh. Barnum never seemed to worry enough.

“Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Now that you’ve got our accounts and filing all straightened out, would you be interested in learning to run the show yourself? Can’t imagine doing this forever, and it would be good to have someone I can trust to take it over.”

Phillip smirked. “Isn’t that what I’m doing already?”

“I mean really run the show.” Barnum turned toward him, his eyes alight in the moonlight, which was by now most of what they had left to see by. His voice took on that conspiratorial quality of excitement and breathlessness when he spun his words into an illusion he wanted his listener to believe. “Wear the jacket and everything. I’ve seen you dance, and you’re not half bad once you let all that uppercrust stiffness out of your limbs.”

He would have made a formidable lawyer if he’d put his talents to better use, Phillip thought wryly. Then again, no one would know which way was up with the law if he were allowed in the courtroom.

Phillip pursed his lips. What did he have to lose at this point? Everything else was already on the line. Still, there was no use jumping in feet first. “That was hardly the note to end on to convince me, but I’ll think about it.” 

“You will?”

“If it comes with an incentive.”

Barnum’s hands went to his hips. “You already get a ten percent cut.”

“As your junior partner, which did not include a jacket in the offer. So we’re renegotiating.”

A smile spread across Barnum’s face, and he shook his finger at Phillip. “Ahh, I see. Very clever.”

“I could say the same for you, Mr. P.T. Barnum. Give me your offer in the morning.”

By then, the last of the protesters had departed meaning they were free to go. With the tip of an invisible hat, Phillip bid his partner goodnight. As he pulled on his outer clothes in his office, he could not help but feel buoyed. Anne had called him by his given name, Barnum was willing to up his stake in the show. And he had something up his sleeve that would help both the show and his bid. Was it possible things were looking up?

He refused to be absolutely sure yet. At least where Anne was concerned. As much as he begged, Penelope was refusing to divulge what she discussed with Anne on their walk or even hint at whether or not the other woman had confided in her. Lettie had been more helpful, telling him that Anne had cried the night she rejected him and not been herself since.

So there was hope, especially if she was using his first instead of his surname. The thought kept his spirits up even through the next morning when at breakfast Crispin handed him a rolled up newspaper bound with a note from his father.

_Phillip,_

_See page 3. It’s not too late._

_B. Carlyle_

Phillip crumpled the note and jammed it in his pocket before yanking the paper open. His eyes scanned the page until he found the headline to which his father alluded. “Barnum Circus Sparks Protests.” James Gordon Bennett’s Daily Column quoted one of the protesters describing the mob that had greeted them at the stage door as a “group of concerned citizens” determined to “preserve the integrity of the good people of this city.”

He snorted and tossed the paper aside. No doubt the _Herald_ had its own interests in publishing the piece, but its source stank of Tammany Hall. Boss Tweed was scrambling to salvage his rapidly unraveling reputation by convincing the elite that he could maintain order and decency among the lower classes.

His parents were mostly fearful of their name being connected to a scandal, should the circus become one, but Phillip doubted anyone among their friends would give anything more than a passing care to the protests. Still, it was best to stay ahead of anything.

Wiping his hands on his napkin, he rose from the table and went to his library. From his desk drawer, he withdrew the package he had received a few weeks before from his university friend, Henry Stanhope. Inside was a letter addressed to “Pip,” as he had been known at Pembroke, and an invitation to an audience with Her Majesty the Queen of England herself.

Phillip ran a hand over the thick parchment. He would have to get the full story of how Henry had pulled off his request when he got to London. For now, he set aside the letter for safe keeping and tucked the invite into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Crispin had his coat and hat waiting when he returned downstairs. “I’ll be dining at my parents’ tonight and then joining them at the theater,” Phillip told him. “Please have my tuxedo delivered to their house.”

“Very good, Mr. Carlyle,” the man said. Only slightly older than his employer, the valet had worked in Mrs. Carlyle’s mother’s household until he enlisted in the Union army during the Civil War. The war had left him with one green eye and a raised scar along his left cheek and neck. However, according to any of the maids in Phillip’s house, these wounds and his patch only enhanced the roguish good looks of his tall and slender build, sweeping red hair and thin face.

“Thank you.” Phillip asked him to look into arranging a trip to England and set off for the circus.

He was hardly surprised to discover the small group already gathered there so early in the morning. Barnum sat at the center of the cluster holding the day’s newspaper and lamenting that Bennett did all of the thinking for New York society. Phillip was well used to his and the others’ jabs about the wealthy and took it in stride. Charity sat beside her husband, her face as anxious as his.

Only Caroline and Helen seemed unfazed by the conversation of Bennett’s latest criticism of the circus as they played on the seesaw that WD had created for them and was helping to balance.

Anne perched on an upright chest at the edge of the group. “Whatever happened to thriving off controversy?” A fair question for a man who seemed to revel in it.

Barnum pursed his lips, seeming at a rare loss for what to do. “Yeah well.” At last catching sight of Phillip, he jumped up, waving the paper. “Hey! You have any thoughts on this?”

Before Phillip could answer, Helen jumped off her end of the seesaw. Only a quick grab by WD kept her sister from slamming into the floor.

“Phillip!” she cried, bounding over to him wearing one of the imitations of Lettie’s beard that her father sold as a show souvenir.

Anne laughed as the little girl threw her arms around him before plunging her hand into his pocket in search of candy.

Gently shifting Helen out of the way, he freed one of his arms to hand Barnum the invitation. “As a matter of fact I do,” he said with a grin.

Barnum looked puzzled as he unfolded the parchment and began to read it aloud. “The Master of the Household has it in command of the Queen to invite Mister Phineas T. Barnum and his theatrical troupe to a reception at...Buckingham Palace…” his voice trailed off in astonishment as the others gathered closer around to see for themselves.

He and Charity exchanged open mouthed stares before she placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “ _The_ Queen Victoria?” she asked hesitantly. “Is this real?”

“Yeah, I had to pull a few strings,” Phillip admitted. He caught up the suddenly still Helen and swept her off her feet. “You want society to accept you, you may as well start at the very, very top.” He set the girl down and placed his hat on her head. She giggled when it fell over her eyes.

Phillip congratulated himself as Barnum stared at his wife, his jaw still hanging wide open. Yes, this was definitely going to change their negotiation.

“Are we all...invited?”

His smile fell as he turned toward Anne who was on her feet now, her shawls clutched protectively around her. She stared at him unblinking, her head high. Unlike the others’ faces, which were filled with excitement, hers looked as if she were waiting to be dealt a blow.

At her question, a look of fear came across Lettie’s face and except for Barnum and Charity, the others began to look uncertain. 

In truth, he had never considered that not all of them might be welcome although the invitation clearly included the troupe. His first instinct was to assure everyone that they were indeed all going. The words were almost out of his mouth before he remembered Anne’s warning in the hansom about the police and how he had insisted, wrongly, that they would treat her fairly. His mistake had humiliated her. And if he made the same one again, it would not be only Anne this time, but her and Lettie, WD, Charles, Constantine, Alec, Deng, and everyone who had placed their trust in him.

What if, after everything, the Queen did not want them all to come? All of his efforts would be for naught if they turned down the invitation. 

Phillip looked back at Anne’s set face. She would never forgive him if he went without taking all of them with him. Or maybe she would. But he would have ruined every chance of being with her.

She was still waiting for his answer, and he could see the doubt gathering in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll just have to tell the Queen that either all of us go or none of us will,” he told her, grateful that he sounded far more confident than he was that the queen of an empire would bend to his ultimatum.

His declaration was greeted with cheers from everyone as they laughed and hugged one another, jumping up and down in their excitement. Helen threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto his back to spin her around. They were all going to London. He would find a way to make it happen.

Charles grinned. “Queen of England, you can’t get much better than that.”

Phillip caught sight of Anne beaming, her incandescent smile meant just for him, and felt his heart tremble within him. An urge to run to her right then and beg her again for a chance came over him, and he nearly did, Helen in tow. But at the last moment he held himself back. If he could bring her to the Queen, maybe then she would begin to believe that they did not have to accept the stars they had been given but chart their own path.

He left the still celebrating group to write Henry a letter with the conditions of their acceptance and went off to post it, accompanied by Caroline and Helen.

When he returned to the circus, the news of the invitation had spread to the rest of the performers, raising everyone’s spirits after the protest the night before. Barnum was in his office and had already drafted a sequence of advertisements for the newspapers announcing first the visit and then the production’s closure during the month they would be away. Of course this also provided an opportunity to encourage ticket sales.

He handed them to his junior partner. “What do you think?” he wanted to know after Phillip had shuffled through all of them.

“You’re certainly going to make the most of this moment.”

“I never like to let an opportunity pass me by,” Barnum acknowledged as he took his stack of papers back.

Charity looked up from the small table in the corner where she was already drawing up tentative schedules for their travel. “I still can’t believe we’ll be meeting the Queen herself.” She smiled brightly at him. Her light brown eyes danced in her small face. “I’ve dreamed of meeting her since I was a little girl. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you, Phillip.”

“Yes, thank you, Phillip,” her husband echoed, stretching out his long legs and folding his hands over his stomach. A smile played at the edges of his thin lips. “You asked me to give you an offer and with this in mind, I suppose I could give you an additional one percent stake.”

Phillip smiled amiably. “I don’t know that I could do less than five to be an additional face of this circus.”

Barnum chuckled. “That’s steep considering I’m the one with the expertise. Three then on the condition that the first payment will not be due until you begin performing.”

“Three percent to begin issue upon the first night I perform.”

“Done,” the man stood and they shook hands. “I’ll leave you to draw up the contract. And we’ll start your training first thing tomorrow.”

“In for a penny in for a pound,” Phillip said with a grin.

Barnum hooked his thumbs in his pants. “I’d say it’s a bit more than that,” he laughed.

Phillip left them to draft the contract. He hoped to have it finished or nearly finished before he left for the evening. At a soft knock, he turned to see Anne in the doorway. The light from the narrow window caught the soft curls that framed her face and cast a glow around her forehead and cheeks. She wore the rest of her hair pinned back as usual.

What was unusual was the smile with which she greeted him. It was so wide that it softened her stubborn chin and rounded out her cheeks.

“May I come in?” she asked when he did not speak.

“Of course,” he managed, recovering himself. He jumped up and then too late realized he had nothing to do with himself.

Amusement twinkled in Anne’s eyes, but she graciously did not point out his clumsiness. “I want to thank you for making sure that we could get home safely last night.” She held out the money that he had lent her. “We were able take the streetcar just fine.”

“You’re welcome.” He took it and folded it in his hands. “I’m glad.” He racked his brain trying to find a way to continue their conversation, to keep her there just a little longer.

She shifted and adjusted her shoulders, her expression faltering enough to reveal her concern. “Do you really think we’ll get to meet the Queen?”

Phillip felt a sharp pang of regret that his lack of specificity in his request for the invitation had allowed any doubt to cloud her excitement.

“I do. I really do, Anne.”

“How can you be sure?” she insisted softly. He could not know for certain, but he was gambling on the queen’s curiosity, her early love of the circus, and the need for her to return to the public eye after the death of her husband to combine in his favor. 

“It’s different there.” He grinned, suddenly remembering something. “Do you know that a colored man owns the most popular circus in the country?”

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “You’re joking,” she said suspiciously.

He laughed. “I’m not. His name is Pablo Fanque. Several of my friends went to see his circus when it came through Oxford.”

“Oxford?”

“Where I went to school, in England.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “You lived there?”

Phillip grinned and leaned back against his desk, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Yes, while I studied. And I went back to produce a few plays that I wrote. London’s practically a second home.”

“What’s it like?”

He thought a moment. “Somehow it manages to be both grander and grimier than anything here in America. Central Park pales in comparison to the parks that they have there, and there are many of them both public and private. And so many things are astoundingly old.”

“I’ve always tried to imagine what it must be like from all the poems and books I’ve read.”

“Poems?”

Anne blushed and shrugged. “Sidney, Pope, Tennyson, Keats, Coleridge, Arnold…”

It was his turn to be surprised. As far as he knew, Anne had never received a formal education yet the names of some of England’s most preeminent poets rolled off her tongue with more familiarity than they did from some of his peers’. He recalled then how deftly she had referenced Shakespeare.

“I thought you grew up in the circus,” he blurted.

She scowled. “And how does that prevent me from reading?”

“I mean it doesn’t but...did you just stumble across Pope lying around in a tent?”

To his relief, Anne was not offended by his assumption of her ignorance. “Not Pope, but I did find other books there. My teacher--Miss Swann--introduced me to him. She used to say you could learn a lot about a people by what they write and a lot about a person by what he reads.”

“What else have you read?”

“Oh anything I could get my hands on when we were traveling but the larger cities had places or libraries where I could borrow books. Some didn’t care that I was colored, and sometimes I wore a bonnet and gloves so that they couldn’t tell. I read every spare moment that I had.”

Although she stood before him in worn clothes, it was not hard for Phillip to imagine what Anne could have been had she been born under better circumstances. With her grace, beauty, and intelligence, she would have been the gem of every party. Even as she was, she was an accomplished trapeze artist and unlike some of the people Barnum had pulled together for his circus, her act had not come by mere coincidence but through difficult training and endless practice.   

He now had yet another reason to be in awe of the woman before him.

“Anne Wheeler,” he said shaking his head as a huge smile spread over his face, “I am beginning to doubt that there will be a time that you don’t surprise me.”

“WD’s known me my whole life, and he’d say the same.” She folded one arm across herself to grip her elbow. “But I guess the same could be said for you too.” 

Phillip laughed hollowly, grateful that this was one aspect of himself that she had not seen through. “I’m all too predictable.”

A thoughtful look came across her face. “I think you underestimate yourself. But I suppose only you could know.”

Deciding to set her words aside for later contemplation, he returned their conversation to safer territory. “I have a whole library. You’re welcome to anything in it. Any time. And I’ll see what I can do about arranging an opportunity to meet Fanque, if you like.”

Her face lit up at both offers, but he could see her struggle to keep her excitement in check as she thanked him for the use of his library and the possibility of meeting the circus proprietor while they were in England. “I’d like that. And I know WD would too, if it could be arranged. He used to talk about having his own circus when we were growing up.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Although it will be just my luck that you abandon us for him,” he teased.

“You’ll have nobody to blame but yourself.” 

“Indeed I will but I hope you would honor my kindness. And now, my lady, you are welcome to stay, but I have a letter to write on your behalf so I ought to return to my work.”

“And I have work I have to return to as well.” She thanked him again for the money to get home and everything he had offered her and was off. Phillip could have done a jig but settled for punching the air instead. 

The sun was setting when Phillip left the circus that evening and hired a carriage to his parents’ home. Like many of their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle had decided to move uptown. Their brownstone mansion stood along the ever expanding Fifth Avenue, not far south of the scaffolding and walls that were meant to be a grand cathedral on 50th street someday. Fitted with all of the modern trappings, including gas lights, running water, and full bathrooms, it was even more luxurious than the home Phillip had grown up in.

Not to be outdone by any of her friends, Mrs. Carlyle had commissioned a marble foyer with a grand, sweeping staircase and a tiered chandelier of Bohemian crystal. Lush rugs absorbed the sound of his footsteps as he entered the room. Columned archways led off to the ballroom, dining room, and salons.

A servant had barely whisked away his coat and hat, when Lilian appeared at the railing overlooking the first floor. “Flip! she cried. She held something black and wriggling in her arms as she hurtled down the stairs to him.

“Flip! Look!” she cried, reaching him. “A puppy! For my birthday.”

At that moment, the animal broke free of Lilian’s grasp and stretched up to lick her face. Giggling, she showed her birthday gift to her brother who let the puppy sniff his hand before scratching underneath its ear.

“Jo says I should name her Thalia. What do you think?”

Phillip grinned. “What do you think, girl?” he asked the puppy who began to lick his hand.

“All of the names I thought of were stupid, so I think I’ll name her Thalia like Jo said,” Lilian continued, adjusting her arms to accommodate the dog’s squirming.

“Where is Josephine?” he asked, realizing his other sister had yet to appear.

“She’s feeding Andromache in the kitchen. Isn’t that such a ridiculous name for a kitten?”

“Lilian!”

The little girl went stiff at her father’s voice. Both of them looked up to see Mr. Carlyle had followed her down the stairs. Tall, slender, and gray haired, he carried himself with the authority of one who expected his every word to be obeyed.

“What did I tell you about the puppy?” he demanded sharply.

Lilian flushed. “She has to stay downstairs until she’s trained,” she said, casting her eyes down. Sensing the girl’s change in mood, Thalia yipped and returned her attention to licking her chin. Lilian smiled in spite of herself.

“I won’t have her making a mess all over my house. If you can’t be responsible, she’ll go back to where she came from. Now take her away before she ruins the floor.”

“Yes, Papa.” Her excitement deflated, Lilian went off to do as she had been told.  

Mr. Carlyle shook his head. “I shouldn’t have bought her that dog, but your mother insisted. It’s only a matter of time before it destroys something.”

He strode over and gripped his son’s hand. “Good to see you, Phillip. You got my note this morning?”

“I did,” Phillip replied, careful to keep his voice neutral.

“And did you read it?”

Biting back the sarcastic reply that rose to his lips, he nodded. “We’ll see if Queen Victoria feels the same when we meet her in a few months.”

His father’s eyebrows rose, the only hint of his surprise. “I’d like to know how you managed that,” he said coolly.

“I will be sure to relay the whole account when I have it. Where’s Mother?”

“Probably downstairs with Josephine. This whole thing with these animals was her idea. There hasn’t been a moment of peace since. Come upstairs to my study once you’ve said hello to your mother and sisters.”

Phillip found the women of his family in one of the pantries, out of the servants’ way as they prepared supper. Two little beds had been set up, one for Lilian’s new pet and the other for Josephine’s. Thalia was trying to catch the thick rope that Lilian dangled before her but broke off playing when he entered. Galloping to him, she flopped onto her back with her paws in the air and crooked her head to look at him. Obeying, Phillip crouched to give her a thorough belly rub.

Josephine watched from where she knelt by her mother’s chair cuddling a beautiful orange kitten with blue eyes and a crown of black fur on its head.

“Mama and Papa surprised us yesterday,” she told him. “This is Andromache.”

When Thalia rolled over and loped away, he went to meet the kitten. Their last family pet passed long before the twins were born. Plumb had been his mother’s dog before she married, a tall, beautiful one with silky black and tan fur and long ears and tail. She adored her mistress and often looked after Phillip as if he were her own pup, following him anxiously as he learned to walk and then sternly if she believed he was getting into trouble as he got older.

Unlike his father, his mother was happy to once again have pets in the house.  Once he had spent some time playing with Andromache and Thalia, who were still wary of one another, he excused himself to go to his father. Josephine set Andromache in her mother’s lap and followed him out.

“I overheard Mama and Papa talking about the circus,” she told him quietly as they made their way up the stairs from the kitchen. “Is everyone okay?”

Touched by her concern, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We’re all okay. It’s just people trying to scare us.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

Phillip sighed. “Because they don’t like people who are different.”

“I liked everyone.”

“That’s why you’re special.”

“When can I go back?” she whispered eagerly. “Caroline told me that Anne showed her how to do tricks on a hoop. I want to try too.”

“Let’s wait for the protests to die down.”

“Can I meet Anne again?”

Phillip looked around the foyer to be sure they were alone and then pulled his sister into a niche. He squatted so that he was level with her gaze. “Josephine, you can’t talk about Anne anywhere near our parents. Just like you can’t let them know that you know about the circus.”

Her brow knit in confusion. “Why not? Don’t you…”

He placed a finger over her lips to quiet her. “Yes, I do like her. But things are complicated.”

“Because she’s colored?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t say anything then. I haven’t even told Lily.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her forehead as he stood. “When things settle down, I’ll figure out a way for you and Lily to go. But for now, it has to be a secret.”

“I understand.” Josephine hugged him and went back to her kitten.

Phillip sighed and ran his hand along his chin. It was wrong and selfish to ask Josephine to keep secrets from their parents and his sister, regardless of what he thought of his parents’ stance on the issue. But he had begun to feel so distant from his family, living a life almost separate from theirs, that he had wanted someone with whom to share his new world, and Josephine had been the only one open-minded and discreet enough.

He sighed again and trudged upstairs to meet with his father.

Mr. Carlyle’s study was far more ornate than Phillip’s own taste. The furniture was all heavy, dark wood with intricate carvings or upholstered in heavy, dark fabrics. Even the windows were covered in dark green and gold brocade panels.

“Can I get you anything?” his father offered as Phillip dropped onto a couch.

“Scotch, if you’re having any.”

“I believe I will.”

Mr. Carlyle poured them each a glass and then handed one off to his son before he settled into an armchair across from him.

“You’re still invested in this circus then?” he asked.

“For now, yes."

His father sipped from his scotch and leaned his head back against his chair. “I hardly see you anymore. I seem to get all news of you through your mother.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Indeed. She says that this endeavor of yours keeps you happy.” He turned his glass in his slender fingers.

“It makes me happy,” he agreed.

“Too bad you could not find a more...decent pursuit, or man to fall in with, to keep you occupied.”

“So you wouldn’t have a problem with me joining a circus if it weren’t Barnum’s?”

“The man is desperate for fame and money and will stoop to anything to get it. Is that really someone you want to associate with?”

Phillip took a sip of his scotch to hide whatever expression may pass over his face. For all America was the land of opportunity that held up the self-made man, the wealthy never tired of being disdainful of those who managed to make their way out of the fray and into the upper echelons of society.

“There is nothing unscrupulous going on with the show. I’ve made sure of that,” he replied at last.

“Perhaps not unscrupulous but people do not protest for nothing. He is presenting freaks and coloreds onstage.”

Phillip clutched his glass and forced his shoulders to stay relaxed. “Perhaps he is a man of the future.”

Mr. Carlyle snorted. “Then a very dim one if that will become what is called entertainment. He does it for nothing but shock and provocation.”

“I might have been inclined to agree were I not very familiar with the quality of the talents of our troupe. Perhaps you and mother ought to come to a show. I would be glad to sponsor your tickets.”

His father’s face became stern. “Phillip, this is something that we are overlooking. Not encouraging,” he reminded him.

Phillip looked away. Neither of his parents had put their position in such frank terms before but there it was.

Seeing his son’s reaction, Mr. Carlyle set his drink on a side table and went to him. He gripped Phillip’s shoulder. “This age can be a restless one. I understand that you might be dissatisfied with or struggling against all you’ve known. Maybe we've made you too comfortable. I’m just asking you not to throw everything away before you’ve settled down. Your mother and I are proud of you, son, and everything you’ve accomplished, and we don't want that to go to waste for a whim.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Mr. Carlyle smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now tell me about this play you’re taking us to tonight.”

Phillip let the subject fall but was grateful for the scotch to push back the coldness that had settled over him at his father’s warning. His parents, or at least his father, had drawn a line, and he was dangerously close to crossing it. And he had no idea what would happen if he did.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anne is finally warming up to Phillip just as he is realizing it's not all fun and games. AHHHHHHH!!!


	9. Bound to break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks! The next chapter. Thank you, thank you for continuing to read, leave comments, and drop kudos. 
> 
> This update is for Alexis and anyone else who might need a boost today. If you're having a great day, don't hesitate to share your smile with others. You never know how far the gesture can go for someone who needs it (speaking from experience here.) 
> 
> Enjoy lovely, beautiful people!

Although they had not yet received word confirming that they would all be going to London, Barnum did not want to waste a single moment that they could be using to prepare. As part of their visit abroad, Phillip had booked a week’s performances for them at the Alhambra Theatre in the West End of London, and Barnum was determined to impress.

For that, he was depending primarily on WD and Anne, Lettie, Deng, siamese twins Chang and Eng, and equestrian performers he had hired. The extra training and Barnum’s demand for them to push the limits were particularly hard on WD, Anne, and Deng whose acts were a matter of life and death. WD blew off steam in arm wrestling matches and banter. Deng meditated every day before their practice. And Anne withdrew, hardly saying a word to anyone.

When he did not have his eye on the rehearsals going on around him, Barnum drilled Phillip in dancing and the term he had coined, showmanship. In fact, he used the word so much that his junior partner was tempted to threaten to punch him every time he uttered it going forward.

“Bigger,” Barnum demanded as they started at the top of one of the opening dance numbers. “Stop thinking about what you look like!” he yelled as they double timed through a series of spins and hops. Fortunately, everyone was too busy with their work to bother watching the ringmaster put Phillip through his paces day after day.

The only thing that kept Phillip from complaining was seeing Barnum push himself as hard as he was everyone else. He was going to prove to England and the Queen that he was not the head of some ragtag band of misfits but a force to be reckoned with.

In the time that he was not rehearsing, Phillip helped Charity to make the arrangements for everyone’s travel. As always, Barnum was determined to do everything with style, including sailing on the White Star Line’s latest ocean liner the RMS _Oceanic_ . According to the newspapers, the _Oceanic_ was an “imperial yacht” that featured all of the latest innovations and luxuries of seafaring. The ship would deliver them to Liverpool, and from there, they would travel by train to London.

Personally, Phillip would have preferred one of the more tried ships, not only for their greater dependability but their cheaper passage as well. But Barnum wanted only the latest and greatest and left it to him and Charity to figure out how to make everything work.

The morning after Henry’s reply came assuring his friend that Her Majesty desired to meet the _entire_ troupe, Phillip arrived at the circus early to begin putting their plans into motion.

To his surprise, Anne was already there dressed in her practice clothes, a pink camisole and ruby red satin trunks. Delicate, gold lace trim matching her fly boots circled her waist and the tops of her lithe thighs. Loose curls tumbled down her back, only kept out of her face by a braid across the crown of her head.

Caroline and Helen were chatting with her as they followed her from pillar to pillar while she lowered and secured her hoop. The two girls liked many people, but they worshiped Anne. Of course, much of that had to do with her extraordinary talent. But like him, the children had to work their way past her aloofness to find the deeply sensitive and caring woman beyond. That journey left them eager to please, although Anne was always quick to reward them.

He hung back in the shadows and watched as she checked the ropes one more time before going to her hoop. It hung over her head, just out of reach. At her gesture, the girls drew away to give her space. They stood side by side, small faces turned upward to watch their tall, graceful hero. Anne rose onto her toes, grasped the lower ring with both hands, and began to turn. Lifting one foot behind her, she spun, bringing her leg up to her knee, spinning faster and faster until both legs lifted gracefully from the ground to fold straight up on either side of the hoop.  

Phillip watched mesmerized as she hooked one knee over the rim, let the other leg fall straight back, and dropped her hands so that she spun upside down. Gracefully, her arms and back arched backward to grasp the ankle of the leg holding her up.

He lost track of time as he watched Anne flow through the hoop like smoke through air, her shape ever changing, ever flowing, her strength as effortless as her beauty.

At last, she dropped to the ground, breaking the spell she had cast over all of them. Caroline stared wistfully up at her while Helen clasped her hands to her chest and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Realizing he ought to announce himself, Phillip clapped as he emerged from his spot behind the bleachers. “Is that we have to look forward to in London, Miss Wheeler?”

The three of them whipped around at the sound of his voice.

“Isn’t she sensational?” sighed Caroline, a hint of envy in her voice.

Phillip removed his coat and then his jacket as he made his way toward them. “Indeed she is,” he agreed. “So sensational in fact that I’m worried they’ll steal her away.”

He watched Anne intently as the girls gasped and clung to her arms, begging her not to leave. She did not look away from him even as she pulled them to her and promised that she was not going anywhere. Phillip had been slow to notice, but in the weeks since Penelope and Josephine’s visit to the circus, her gaze had grown bolder, no longer skittering away when their eyes chanced to meet. Not only was it bolder, something else was there. A softness that had not been present before.

The girls were suddenly quiet, too quiet, and when he looked down, he realized that they were staring between him and Anne.

He cleared his throat. “Who wants some candy?”

“Me! Me!” cried Helen, the moment already forgotten as she ran to him and held out her hands for the treats he dug out of his coat pocket. Caroline’s eyes grew wide upon seeing how many he had.

“Anne, don’t you want some?” Helen asked through a mouthful of chocolates before squealing when Phillip tickled her waist.

“You gobbled up everything I had, you little monster,” he teased.

The girl giggled and writhed away, running to Anne for safety. “You are a little monster,” the woman laughed, wiping away the chocolate drool that had dribbled from the child’s mouth. “Be careful you don’t choke.”

Helen squealed and threw herself against her protector as Phillip came closer, but he was merely interested in the hoop. He handed his coat and jacket off to Caroline. Placing both hands on the apparatus, he tried to pull himself up. And got only as far as raising his knees to his chest, causing Caroline and Helen to giggle.

“You make it look so easy,” he admitted sheepishly, dropping back to the ground before he embarrassed himself further. Anne was far stronger than she looked. He took his things back from Caroline.

Anne smiled smugly. “It takes practice of course.”

“Can I try?” asked Helen eagerly. She ran to the hoop and jumped.  

“Not in a dress!” protested Caroline.

“Here, I’ll help you. Caroline, do you mind holding these again?” She took his garments back with a frown of disapproval. More than anyone else in her family except her father, she cared deeply about appearances.  

Helen, not so much. Phillip lifted the girl until her small hands grasped the circle.

“Let me go! Please.”

He obeyed, holding his hands just far enough away that he would still be able to catch her if she fell. Helen shifted her hands along the hoop, trying to pull herself up as Anne did. With much maneuvering and effort, she managed to get her chin above the rim and grinned triumphantly. Anne applauded her success.

“Very impressive,” she praised, her voice full of genuine enthusiasm. Her smile turned mischievous. “Even better than Phillip I’d say. What do you think Caroline?” she asked with a wink.

Catching on, the girl giggled. “Much better than Phillip.”

He was about to pretend to be offended, but Helen gurgled something through gritted teeth. He helped her down instead before she hurt herself.

“I said, I won!” she told him, her eyes bright with her triumph as she smiled toothily up at him.

Phillip ruffled her hair. “So you did. This time around at least. Now, why don’t you come upstairs with me to give Anne some peace she while she practices.”

Obediently the girls followed him up the stairs to his office. When he looked over his shoulder, Anne was already pulling herself back into the hoop.

Only Barnum and Charity had known of the confirmation of their invitation since they had to go to the bank to finance part of the trip. Once everyone arrived by late morning, Barnum let them get well into their warm ups and practice before he bounded onto the stack of boxes that Chang and Eng used for their act and pulled a folded piece of paper from his waist.

He gave his hand to his wife to help her up beside him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention,” he called, waving the paper over his head as if it were a giant flag.

It took some time for everyone to quiet down. Barnum offered up a drum roll on his thighs before straightening and clearing his throat for effect. Phillip folded his arms over his chest from where he stood at the edge of the ring. There was not a crowd that the man did not know how to work.

“We’re going to London!” Barnum announced.

“Yes!” Lettie’s voice could be heard above the others’ as everyone celebrated all over again with shouts and laughter and hugs. Charity clapped her hands as she took it all in until Barnum swept her into his arms and bent her back for a kiss. There were hoots and hollers in response.  WD picked up Anne from behind and spun her around and around while she laughed and struggled to get free.

Phillip had rarely seen such unbridled joy, he realized, as he watched several of the dancers break out in a reel. Everyone’s exuberance was worth every effort to secure the audience with the queen, and he let out a sigh of relief knowing that he had not let them down.

He was just trudging back up the stairs when a hand caught his sleeve. Phillip turned to find Anne behind him. Her expression was serious, and he almost asked if anything were wrong. She was happy only a moment ago. Or so she seemed.

She drew her hand back quickly. “I wanted to say thank you,” she said earnestly. “For doing this for us. It means so much.” And then she was gone, fading back into the exuberant celebration as if she had never broken away.

Absently, he brushed his arm where she had caught him. He thought wistfully of one day being able to stand before an audience and take Anne in his arms to kiss her and renew every promise of joy he had ever made her.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost instead of pulling off the coup of the century,” a voice interrupted.

Phillip looked around, this time to see Lettie standing at the foot of the stairs, hands on her hips.

“Come on then,” she ordered. “Stop mooning over that twig and come enjoy yourself for your once. After all, this is all because of you.”

Recognizing that she was not too be argued with, and half afraid she would toss him over her shoulder and carry him down if he chose to, he did as she said, wondering along the way whether she had ever dared call Anne that to her face. Then again it was _Lettie_.

Phillip let Constantine pull him into a rough hug before leading him around for handshakes and back claps and multiple rounds of huzzahs.

Once their trip was confirmed, Barnum published advertisements for the circus in every New York City newspaper, even the colored ones. With the promise of new and even more spectacular acts, the crowds poured in, drowning out the persistent but diminishing set of protesters.

Penelope came again, this time with her husband who was so enamored of his wife that whatever brought her great pleasure brought him the same.

“I suppose this will be farewell for awhile,” she told Phillip when he brought them to his office after the show. “How exciting that you get to meet the Queen! I wish I were going with you.”  

She settled herself easily into one of the chairs by the fire while her husband paced. Charles Vandorn was several years Phillip’s senior, an easygoing but active man who always seemed somewhat trapped whenever he was indoors. Phillip watched him from where he leaned against the fireplace.

“You’re bringing all of this with you?” Charles asked, peering out at the mass of rigging visible from the glass window that overlooked the arena.

Phillip shook his head. “The Alhambra will suit our needs while we’re in London. We’ll just be bringing some of the equipment and the horses.”

“That is quite an undertaking,” his guest observed, turning his back to the window and clasping his hands behind him.

“And hopefully well worth it.”

“Meeting the Queen alone will be worth it!” Penelope pointed out. “You’ll be the envy of the town again, Phillip.”

“Not the envy,” he said almost ruefully. “But certainly the talk of it.”

Charles and Penelope exchanged a look. So people were already talking. It did not help that he had all but withdrawn from the former company he kept leaving any speculation to be checked by only his parents and friends. He was used to having a reputation--he may have let a few of his flirtations go too far--but until now he was always an insider. More and more he felt as if he were on the outside looking in.

“You’ve always managed before,” Charles said bracingly. “Something else will come along soon enough to distract everyone.”

Expecting Penelope to chime in, Phillip glanced at his childhood friend. Where he thought to find a comforting smile, he found only a worried lip and knit brow. Her hands folded and unfolded in her lap.

“What is it?”

Phillip wondered just how bad things had become when her eyes darted to her husband. But when he looked back to Charles, the other man appeared just as bewildered by her behavior.

“Charles, do you mind giving us a moment?” she asked softly. It was her husband’s turn to look between the two others in the room. Phillip shrugged to show him he had no idea what his wife wanted.

Penelope looked up at Charles through her dark lashes. “Please?” she added, and the matter was settled.

The two men exchanged bemused looks. “Feel free to explore as you like. Anyone will be glad to answer your questions if you tell them you’re my guest,” Phillip told him.

Charles thanked him and with a last look at his wife excused himself.

Once the door closed behind him, Phillip turned to her and crossed his arms. “And you talk about my dramatics,” he complained.

She gave him a fleeting smile and went back to twisting her hands. “I didn’t come here with the intention of saying this tonight. I’ve been afraid of...well, I’m not sure I should mettle.” Noticing his open mouthed stare, she stopped, getting ahold of herself. “It’s true people are talking but like Charles said, it’s nothing that won’t pass. But only think, whatever is happening now will be nothing compared to what would happen if your feelings for Anne were to become public.” Seeing the look of consternation come over his face, she rushed on.

“Phillip, you can’t be foolish enough to think she’ll ever be accepted, and if she is not, then nor will you. I saw the way you watched her tonight. I’ve never seen you look at a woman that way. You certainly never looked at me like that when...well, it doesn’t matter now. But look at Charity. Her own parents have refused to talk to her since she went off with Barnum. They’ve never even met their grandchildren. I’m not sure they even know they exist.”

“What exactly are you trying to tell me Penelope?” he asked dully as her words and their truth sank in.

She went to him and took his hand. Her hazel eyes searched his. “Are you sure about this, my friend? You can’t go forward without eventually betraying someone. Either your own parents or Anne. A choice will have to be made.”

Phillip wanted to push her away, to deny any truth to her words. He wanted to tell her she had no right when it had been she who had broken their engagement and crushed him.

“You’re the one who told me I shouldn’t marry just for my parents’ approval,” he told her, his tone heavy with sarcasm.

As always, Penelope seemed to be expecting his reaction. Although the color rose in her cheeks, her voice remained calm and kind. “I did. But I would not have made you happy. You would have always felt trapped by the expectations of your parents, and _I_ could not live with that, no matter how much it hurt us both to go separate ways.”

“Thank you for your consideration,” he snapped.

Still, she did not take his bait. “You’re so busy fighting the truth, you haven’t bothered to figure out why we’re having this conversation, have you?”

That stopped his anger in its tracks. Of course he knew why they were having this conversation! Because he was in love with a colored woman and was not willing to hide it. Maybe she was tired of all the gossip and rumors but that was not his problem. Those were the friends she chose to keep.

He was about to tell her so, when the small voice in the back of his mind stopped him. Penelope had dealt with gossip, pettiness, and meanness her whole life. Although it might hurt her to hear his name dragged through the mud, she did not let what other people said sway her associations or beliefs.

She was warning him about having to make a choice between Anne and his parents. Her words were “you can’t go forward.” Well he could not go anywhere if Anne did not return his feelings. Which meant that if they were having this conversation, Penelope knew that she did.

He gripped her shoulders, hardly daring to hope. “Penny, are you telling me that Anne likes me?”

His friend smiled and rolled her eyes. “Heaven knows why, but yes, she does.”

Phillip could not contain his whoop as he pulled her roughly into a hug and lifted her off her feet. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he laughed.

Chuckling in spite of herself, she pushed him away. “Because Phillip, I needed you to listen to what I was saying first.”

She grew serious again when he set her down. “If you love her and want her, then you are going to have to be ready and willing to make many sacrifices. I just hope you’ve thought about that as much as you’ve been pining.”

“I will,” he promised, his excitement ebbing some.

“Good. Now help me find my husband.”

However, he hardly had time to even think of anything but the circus in the next weeks as they prepared for their journey across the Atlantic. At last everything was arranged, and he was watching in satisfaction as porters loaded his baggage onto the RMS _Oceanic_ to be delivered to his stateroom. His mother had come along with Josephine and Lilian to see him off. Thalia, who was already getting too big for Lilian to carry everywhere, had come too.  

They all stared up at the huge ship. It was about the length of a city block and a half with a freshly painted red and black hull. Most of the red was concealed beneath the water while the top and bottom rows of portholes stood out in the black paint of the top half of the ship. Four masts towered over the deck along with a single funnel to exhaust smoke.

On the busy dock, the two girls stayed close to their mother’s side. Lilian wrinkled her nose at the smell of fish, the ocean, and the livestock penned nearby. Thalia hopped this way and that on the end of her leash, eagerly taking in all the unfamiliar smells and sights around her.

“Have a safe journey, darling,” Mrs. Carlyle told him, dropping the twins’ hands to embrace him.

“Thank you, Mother.”

He leaned down to hug Lilian first. “Is it true you’re going to meet Queen Victoria?” she whispered. He wondered how she knew and suspected she had been listening at doors again.

“I am,” he told her.

“I wish you were taking me with you,” she complained as he let go. Phillip tugged a lock of her hair. “Next time, Lily,” he promised. Her small face looked miserable as she pulled Thalia back from getting underfoot of the porters.

If Josephine knew about the Queen, she said nothing when he held her. Like her mother, she wished him a safe journey.

While he said his goodbyes, people were already gathering on the deck to look out over the city and wave to those below who had come to see them off.

He embraced his mother again, surprised the twins with a sack of candy each, and waved to them one final time as Mrs. Carlyle took up her daughters’ hands and led them off to their waiting carriage.

Phillip boarded feeling lighter than he had in a long while, now that their journey was truly starting. A steward was on hand to check his ticket and bring him to his room amidship. His travel trunks had not yet arrived, so he took the time to explore the well appointed rooms which included a bedroom, wardrobe room, and bathroom. There was running water in the sink and to fill the bathtub. In the bedroom there was even an electric bell to call the steward.

Satisfied with his accommodations, he went topside to find his fellow travelers. He found most of them looking out over the harbor in awe. Someone had found a box for Charles to stand on so that he could see over the ship’s rail. Phillip slid into the open spot beside Anne who stood with her hands on the railing, her eyes closed, and face lifted to the breeze.

The weather was just turning to spring, and it was cold on the water. She wore a cloak that Penelope had found for her after seeing the blood stains left on her coat from her encounter with the streetcar driver. Anne looked effortlessly elegant in the plush midnight blue material, as if she had worn such clothing her entire life.

“How does it feel?” he asked, hoping he was not disturbing her.

A smile spread over her lips though she did not open her eyes. “Exciting. Like an adventure. I never thought I’d be going somewhere so far away. And to meet a queen no less. I can’t believe this is happening. To me. It feels like a dream.”

“It’s real,” he assured her.

At last she opened her eyes. In the bright morning light, they were their lightest shade of brown. “I wouldn’t believe you if it weren’t for the smell,” she told him, wrinkling her nose just as Lilian had on the dock. “I would never dream something like this.”

He laughed. “Once we get away from the harbor, it won’t be so bad.”

“I hope so,” she muttered. “It will ruin the view.”

“There’s not going to be much to see for the next few days. Just ocean every way you look. It can get monotonous.”

Anne shrugged. “Perhaps. But most things are worth seeing at least once.”

He could not wait to see London through her eyes.

By the time the anchor was hauled up, most of the passengers were gathered at the bow of the ship to wave farewell to those seeing them off. Word had spread that Barnum’s circus was aboard and children darted over every now and then to catch a glimpse of the oddities. The brave among them came forward and were rewarded with smiles and handshakes.

Once the ship was on its way out of the harbor, most of the passengers drifted off to explore. Anne remained where she was, looking out toward the growing ocean. The breeze played with the tendrils of her hair and lifted the edges of her cloak as she took in the changing landscape before her. They passed the forts that protected the waterway to the city, the forested islands, all without a word.

The wind brushed his hair lightly across his forehead. Though the day was chilly, the sun felt warm on his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Anne, with nothing but the ocean before them, he felt free.

___

As Phillip had warned, the thrill of the ocean view soon dulled, although Anne never tired of looking up at the stars at night. Several of the troupe members did not take well to being afloat, including Cecelia. She spent their first few days clinging to the rail, her eyes fixed determinedly on the horizon until the next time her stomach betrayed her.

Phillip rented a pair of canvas chairs for them so that they could be more comfortable on deck where the roll of the waves wreaked the least havoc on Cecelia. She clutched a cup of strong ginger tea that Deng had brewed for her. It seemed to help some. Anne set aside her well worn copy of Wells Brown’s _Clotel_ to adjust the blanket they shared to keep the draft off her friend.

“I know I’m not very good company right now,” Cecelia sighed.

Anne patted her arm. “I don’t mind. Are you warm enough?”

Her friend nodded, though she drew the blanket tighter about her. Once Anne was satisfied that there was nothing more she could do for her friend’s comfort, she went back to her reading. As tragic as the book was, the fictional story of Thomas Jefferson’s mulatto slave Currer and their two quadroon daughters, Clotel and Althesa, it was one of Anne’s favorites.

She was just getting to the part where Currer dies of yellow fever before she can be freed when someone tapped her shoulder. “Hey!”

Anne looked up to see one of the crew members standing over them, a scowl on his face.

“Where did you two get those chairs?” he demanded.

“We rented them,” she replied.

“Likely story. Get up!”

Anne rose as ordered, tucking her book underneath her arm to help Cecelia to her feet. “Sir,” she protested. “These chairs were paid for on our behalf.”

“That’s not what those two ladies said,” he told them, jerking his thumb toward two shawled women standing some ways away. From where she stood, Anne could only make out one woman’s gray hair and the other’s blond.

“Pardon, sir, but we don’t know them,” Cecelia added. She clung to Anne’s arm for balance.

“Well, I’m going to have to take them away.” He jostled them out of the way as he folded up first one chair and then the other to carry them off.

“But those were given to us by Mr. Carlyle,” Anne protested. “You can check the receipt.”

“And how do I know you didn’t steal them from him?”

“We did not steal the chairs,” Cecelia said firmly.

“Is there a problem?”

All three turned to see Phillip striding toward them, Octavia at his side.

“Nothing to worry about, sir,” the crewman said quickly. Phillip’s squinting blue eyes flicked from the man holding their seats to Anne who was supporting a swaying Cecelia.

“Then why are you holding their chairs?” he asked coolly.

For the first time, the crew member began to look unsure of himself. He glanced toward where the two accusers were standing. They had disappeared.

“These were reported as stolen,” the uniformed man stammered.

“By whom? The person who rented them?” Phillip was unrelenting in his inquiry. In his tailored coat and fine suit, his status was clear. “Don’t you see this woman can barely stand? Return her chair. I gave those to them for their comfort.”

The crew member went crimson. Before he could hand them back to the women, Phillip marched forward and yanked them out of his grasp. “I’m not done,” he snapped when the man tried to ease away.

Phillip first set up a seat for Cecelia. Octavia and Anne helped her sit again and fixed the blanket around her. He finished setting up Anne’s and rounded on the crewman.

“What is your name?”

“Travis, sir. My apologies for the misunderstanding, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Save your apologies for these women. And the next time someone asks you to interfere with anyone traveling under my care, you are to consult me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Travis stood straight with his hands behind his back as if Phillip were his captain.

“Good. I will be having a word with the captain about this. The White Star Line assured me our passage on its ship would be top of the line, and this incident proves severely disappointing.”

At Phillip’s insistence, Travis apologized to Cecelia and Anne and left the four of them in their corner of the deck. Octavia explained that she had overheard the women whispering about her friends and then seen them wave over the crew member. At that, she had gone to find Phillip.

Cecelia and Anne thanked both of them, and Phillip asked the dancer how she was feeling and offered to get her anything that would make her more comfortable. She declined, saying company was the best thing to keep her mind off her stomach and invited him to stay and talk with them.

Anne sighed internally. Her reading had been interrupted and all she wanted to do was return to it. But she caught Phillip’s anxious glance at the invitation and decided it best to keep her dissatisfaction to herself.

By now, Phillip had made his feelings for her abundantly clear. And she could no longer ignore the swoop in her stomach when she looked at him nor the desire to be near him. How she had wished as they stood side by side at the rail looking at the whole world before them that he had been able to drape his arm around her and pull her to his side. She wondered what it would feel like in his arms, held to his solid chest.

But she could see no way for them to court in the open. No way to satisfy the longing in his eyes as he snuck glances at her or eagerly turned to her each time she ventured to speak. Maybe Cecelia was right. Would it really be so bad to be his paramour? To keep whatever was between them just for themselves?

But everything she had ever read suggested that could only end in heartbreak.

Her head spinning, Anne rose from her seat. “I think I’ll go for a walk,” she said abruptly. Phillip’s eyes lit up. He was already offering her his arm, heedless of what Octavia was saying. She backed away. “I don’t think I’ll be long.”

She hurried from them before she could see his disappointment or Cecelia’s eye roll. What would their courtship look like anyway when they could hardly go to any of the places Phillip frequented?

Anne was well away before she realized that she had left her book beside her chair. For a moment she considered going back. But she did not want to give Phillip an opportunity to follow her. So she went in search of WD. He would help her clear her mind without even knowing what weighed on it.

That evening, supper was served, as were all meals, in a long room of benches and tables bolted to the floor. The ship could accommodate up to one thousand steerage passengers but was not traveling at full capacity, leaving them plenty of space to spread out.

Anne was sitting with the albino twins, Callie and Cassie, Lettie, and Deng. WD had to eat in the smaller dining hall for single men in the bow of the ship. Everyone else but the saloon passengers ate in the stern.

Deng had quickly become renowned on the ship for her language and while it seemed to entertain some of the men and a few of the women, many of the mothers were hardly pleased. This meant the female members of the troupe were left an area entirely their own to eat in relative peace. 

Octavia soon joined them. “I hope you enjoyed your walk,” she said, sliding into the open seat beside Cassie. Unlike Lettie and Cecelia, Octavia did not have an opinion about Anne’s personal life and in fact seemed rather bored by it all for which Anne was grateful. “You forgot this.”

She slid _Clotel_ over to her. Noticing something tucked into the top, Anne thanked her and quickly hid the book in her lap before the others could see.

Supper passed pleasantly enough, each of the women saving their rolls for their seasick companions. At the end, Deng collected the food and tied it into a napkin to deliver. A band had been assembled for the evening’s entertainment, and the rest of the women went off to tidy up before.

Left alone at the table, Anne opened the book in her lap and pulled out the folded paper inside.

_Meet me at the eighth evening bell at the first lifeboat? Phillip_

She appreciated his timing. The music would be in full swing by then and hardly anyone would notice her absence. Anne slipped the note back among the pages for safekeeping.

A quarter of an hour to the appointed meeting time, she snuck away from the revelry to retrieve her cloak and gloves from the bunk she shared with Deng, Cecelia, and Lettie. On deck, the late March night was cold but the still air kept it from being uncomfortably so. Overhead, the clear dark sky was scattered with stars as if a bag of cotton had burst across it.

He was already waiting for her when she arrived, though she was early. In the light of the nearby gas lamp, she could see the relief on Phillip’s face when she came into view. He had not been expecting her to show.

Underneath his coat, he still wore the tuxedo that he had donned to dine in the first class dining room.

“You came,” he said, fidgeting with the gloves in his hand.

“I was curious,” she replied honestly.

He did not seem to know what to make of that. For the second time that day, he offered her his arm. Anne placed her hand on it.

“Not yet,” she said softly. They were so close that she could feel the heat of him, smell the alluring scent of his eau de cologne, something so exotic that she could not place it. It was warm and comforting and fresh all at once. She could not help herself. Anne inhaled deeply, drawing in and trying to remember the smell of him, imagined herself being enveloped in it.

Hesitantly, he placed his hand on her cheek. She had not thought a hand so smooth and soft could be so firm and strong. “Anne,” he whispered, forcing her to raise her eyes to his. “You know I want you. It’s not a secret I’ve tried to hide.”

In that moment, she felt that it would be so easy to fall into his arms. She imagined them closing around her, holding her the way he looked at her, like he had stumbled across the most precious thing in the world.

“I know.” Unable to bear what the feel of his skin against hers was doing to her, she gently pushed his arm away. 

“Then why? Why do you keep pulling away from me?”

“Because what if this isn’t meant to be? You think I don’t see how much you want this. But why can’t you see everything is stacked against us?”

“Anne, we could show them, make them see through what we have,” he insisted. He smiled at her encouragingly. “How are things ever going to change if we let people tell us who or what we can be?”

He made it sound so simple. Because he really believed it was. He thought it would be as easy as telling the crew member off for taking their chairs. She had to make him understand that when you were colored, the world they lived in tried to take everything from you and then some. It offered you hope then gleefully crushed it and flung it in your face, cackling as you scrambled to gather up the scattered pieces before they slipped away. Every day the world beat you down and dared you to get back up again, dared you to hold your head up and believe you were a person. And when you did, it beat you down some more. Being colored in their world was a Sisyphean punishment just for living and the triumph was getting to the top of the hill with the boulder each night, only to get up and start again at the bottom in the morning.   

“Because right now it’s not up to you! It’s not up to me!” Anne let her frustration and anger creep into her voice. “You’ve lived your whole life writing your destiny, being the owner of your fate. I’ve spent my whole life running from mine. All I’ll ever be doing is running. And I never chose this! I never did anything to deserve it. And that’s something you’ll never understand, Phillip Carlyle. Our paths can only diverge from here.”

He looked as if she had slapped him. Good, she thought first. He needed some common sense knocked into him. But regret quickly followed. At least he was willing to believe against the odds for them, even if it was foolish and perhaps dangerous.

Then his eyes flashed. “So you don’t want me?”

Anne hated what he was doing to her, hated that he was trying to simplify something that was so much larger than the two of them and what either of them wanted.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“No, Anne, what you’re doing is not fair.” His anger had given way to desperation. She could see the tears shining in his eyes.

Why couldn’t he see that she was trying to save him? Save them both?

“I love you.”

His words sent both of them reeling. Their impact swallowed up all of the noise around them, of the other passengers taking in the night, the music drifting up from below deck, the waves against the side of the ship, even the sound of their own thudding hearts and heavy breaths.

Neither Anne nor Phillip knew whether he truly meant it. The words had come out untested in a fit of emotion. But there they were, hanging thick and unretractable in the air between the two of them.

Phillip was the first to recover. “Anne, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He was reaching for her, trying to take her hands, but she pulled them up and tucked them under her arms. The pain in his face was breaking her.

It felt like everything was unraveling around them. She wanted to tell him how much she wanted him, that her refusal had nothing to with him and everything to do with the random circumstances of their birth. The deck had been stacked against them from the start, the hand she had been dealt never meant to win.

“Anne,” he pleaded. There were tears on his face, and in the dim light, the blue of his eyes stood out starkly against the redness lining his lashes. Those ridiculously long lashes.

She had to make him understand. Through her own tears the stars shifted and winked, mocking her with their cold, distant stillness.

“Phillip,” her voice broke on his name. The cold air burned the wet trails on her cheeks. “I know this isn’t what you want me to say. I know you know it’s not what’s in my heart. But for now, our hands are tied.”

“Because you’ve tied them! You keep fighting what’s between us! Why? Because you’re afraid? Of what, Anne? Of what? Tell me, and we can try to fix it. We can change it.”

“Phillip, it’s not up to us so leave it be!”

He moved too swiftly for her to bring her hands up to stop him. His palms cupped her face, and he drew her to him. “Tell me, Anne. What are you afraid of?”

She trembled and shook against him, the truth heaving its way to the surface.

“Tell me,” he pleaded.

“All the world will ever see when it looks at me is the bastard of a slave. A mulatto, a colored woman. And when it sees us together, it will do everything in its power to tear us apart.” 

His touch was soothing as his thumbs wiped the tears from her face. “That’s not what I see,” he whispered. “And that’s not all that others see though that cannot erase the burdens that you carry on your heart or the ones that the world has placed there.”

“I don’t want to break us,” she told him.

The sounds around them returned. She felt first then heard the sway and slap of the waves against the stern. Far off the music returned and a woman’s laugh rose and fell melodically. Anne looked past Phillip’s eyes up to the endless expanse of sky above them and the encompassing darkness all around.

The freedom of their suspension in this swaying world warred against the crushing weight of how small they were against the universe, against the fates set against them, drawing them miles apart and out of reach of one another.

His hands against her face were the only anchor on either side of the battle. They were two people who could never pass through the world the same way, whose only bind would be their feelings for one another. Everything would depend on it.

“You won’t,” he promised. “You won’t break us, Anne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have shared this earlier, and you might have seen this in the comments, but here's what happened to Anne and WD's mother. 
> 
> "The rest of the backstory that they’ll never learn is that their mother was caught shortly after she left them. She told the slave catchers and ultimately her master that the two children had drowned in a river crossing. She felt enough grief at abandoning them that everyone believed this to be true. Her master beat her within an inch of her life and then sold her down south. She escaped again during the Civil War but ended up dying of yellow fever in a Union camp. WD has tried to find her, but he only has a vague description of her. Anne doesn’t remember her and prefers to believe that she is living out her life safe and happy."
> 
> I had no idea when I came up with this backstory how similar it was to Clotel, the novel mentioned in this chapter. It's a real book, considered the first novel to be written by an African-American in the United States, but it had to be published in England first because it was considered pretty scandalous.


	10. Things from far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, I'm back!! Don't worry (just in case you were), I have not given up on this story. Not by any means. I've just been buried in theses, PowerPoints, blogs and all other manner of research on the racial politics, tourism, layout, and all manner of other things of Victorian London as I prepared for this chapter and the next few. And if I'm totally honest cramming in the rest of the Best Picture nominees before the Oscars, four viewings of Black Panther, and a visit to see my family. And if I'm even more honest, I finished chapter 9 and was like oh crap--what happens next??? WHERE DO THEY GO FROM HERE???? But I'm back on track. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and sticking with the story!! And um, apparently rereading chapter 9 several times in some cases? I'll try not to dally so long in the future. 
> 
> Without further ado, here is the next installment lovely readers.

In the aftermath of Phillip’s confession, Anne realized that there was nowhere or never long enough to be alone on the ship. Without anywhere to retreat into her thoughts during the day, she lay awake at night. 

Cushioned in the deep darkness of their windowless room, curled up on a bunk too short for her legs, Anne pondered her feelings for Phillip Carlyle. Lettie had let her know with no uncertainty that she thought both of them foolish, her for hesitating and Phillip for waiting. Cecelia felt that she had said her piece and ought not to say any more without her friend’s prompting. WD seemed to feel much the same.

But although she cared for her friends and her brother, she had to figure out what her own heart was telling her. And that was eluding her.

She could not deny that she was drawn to him physically. The way his strong jaw contrasted against his delicate nose and lips, his light eyes beneath the dark lines of his eyebrows, his slender yet solid physique. Her own lips tingled as she thought of the way his quirked when she caught him off guard, and she imagined them against hers, soft, gentle, and persistent, just as he pursued her.

Anne wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through his perfect coif, whether his hair would feel as soft as it looked when it gave way to her designs. She pictured it falling over his forehead as it did when the wind on the ocean blew it loose. She remembered the strength and confidence of his grip on her when he held her face that night and imagined it moving from her cheeks, to her neck, to her shoulders, and to her back as he pulled her flush against him, drawing her into his scent, his warmth, his body. 

She pressed her knees together to stifle her growing ache for him.

What was between them was more than physical though. She valued his generosity, his appreciation for her intellect, and his intelligence. She admired the passion that lay beneath his quiet steadiness, and the way it ignited in his eyes when he was moved by emotion.

And yet, he left her uncertain of herself in a way she had never felt before.

Anne knew who she was. She was the daughter of a brave woman who risked everything and sacrificed so much to give her children freedom. Her trapeze art happened by a matter of circumstance but ultimately the circus was something she chose. It was a way to earn a living and live her life on her terms, as untethered to the service of whites as she could be. With Tirza and Miss Swann’s help, she had taught herself through books to form her own opinions so that she did not have to rely solely upon others’. She was as free as a woman of her birth could be. 

She told Phillip that her life was spent running from her fate but running did not mean fleeing. Running was building the strength and the resilience to endure every obstacle heaved in her way. There was power in running, in pushing through the pain, and Anne embraced it. The world might never treat her as anything more than an unwelcome and disgusting burden, and that Anne had to accept, but she did not have to bend to it.

Until Phillip came along, Anne knew exactly where she stood, which boundaries she wanted to push and the others she wanted to steer clear of.

In his ignorance, he threatened to upend everything. He believed, as only a man like him could, that the world could be rearranged to his will. That achieving anything was solely a matter of will. There were aspects of her world that he could never see or fully understand.

That blindness frustrated Anne, feeding a deep fear that she harbored. That one day he may wake up and regret everything that he gave up to be with her and begin to resent her. He would always have the comfortable life he knew to stand in contrast to the life he would live with her.

These thoughts chased themselves around and around in Anne’s head until the sway of the ship pulled her into restless sleep.

Her waking hours were no better. She refused to contemplate the meaning behind Phillip’s declaration of love. Her own emotions were hard enough to decipher. But it was clear that they were on his mind from the color that rose in his cheeks when they encountered one another and the furtive glances he stole when he thought she was not looking. Fortunately, with him in the saloon class and her in steerage, he could be easily avoided. But that only emphasized the distance between them.

It was with relief that Anne finally spotted the English coastline a few days later. The ship no longer felt like anything but a cage. As more people gathered at the rail, the Captain announced they were a day out from Liverpool.

She and WD stood by one another, watching the fleck of land slowly get larger. Her brother leaned forward, intent on the horizon before them, his face lit with wonder.

“Annie, I’m not sure how but I think we’ve been blessed,” he said reverently. “Never thought we’d amount to much, but here we are, traveling to another country, going to meet the Queen. I don’t want to miss a minute.”

“I know what you mean,” Anne agreed, her voice echoing the hush in his. In all of the dreams they had shared with one another as children, neither of them had dreamt up anything close to the moment they were living now. 

“Mama would be proud if she knew. She’d be so proud of you.” He looked over at her and smiled before tucking her shoulders into the crook of his arm. WD rarely mentioned their mother. Like Anne, he did not blame her for the choice she made, but he had known what it was to have a mother and thus had someone to long for and miss. Still, he had been barely more than a baby himself when she left them and time had dimmed most of his memories of her.    

“That means a lot but what matters most to me is what you think,” she told him, wedging her way as close as possible to his warmth and wrapping her arms around him. “Of the two of us, she should be most proud of you. What you became without her, who you helped me become. I wouldn’t be here without you.” Her voice choked. They were two runaways making the most of the world they had been given, and they had made so much of it.

WD ran his hand over her hair, something she could not remember him doing before. A small, warm, wet drop landed on her cheek. When she looked up, there were tears running freely down his face. “Annie, you’re everything to me. Even when you were a baby, I used to look down at you, and you’d look back like you believed I could do anything.” He wiped his face with his free sleeve. “Look at us,” he chuckled, tightening his arm around her.

“And look at where we’ve come,” Anne sighed happily, content and at peace in the circle of their love.

Anne, along with many in the troupe, was on deck shortly after dawn the following morning to watch as Liverpool, England came into view. She supposed that if she were coming from anywhere but New York City the size of the city that sprawled out from the coast before them would have been overwhelming. It was still imposing.

The _Oceanic_ had to wait in a line of ships to enter the River Mersey to go through the series of locks that would deliver them up the river to Albert Dock. At last it was their turn and Anne watched as the city unfolded around her. Men swarmed in and out of the bustling riverside warehouses carrying huge barrels and crates of goods being unloaded from ships that came from all over the world. Their shouts filled the air with constant noise, only interrupted by the cries of the seagulls that dove in and out among the sails and strutted along rails and sidewalks.

Beyond the impressive expanse of the warehouse complex rose the tall and domed customs house and the line of buildings that housed the army of people who supported one of the trade centers of the world’s largest empire.

Docking took far longer than she expected, and the sun was well overhead by the time they were allowed to disembark. WD carried their carpet bags, which held only the clothes they would be wearing while in England. Their costumes were in trunks that had been carried in the hold.

Everyone huddled together not far from the boarding ramp while Phillip and Barnum directed the porters in loading all of the luggage and equipment onto wagons that had been hired to take them to the Lime Street Station where they would catch the train to London. The men working around them spoke English with such heavy and odd accents that Anne found them nearly impossible to understand. She could hardly believe they were speaking the same language she knew. There were other languages spoken among the dock workers some of whom were darker than she but had straight black hair. Here and there she spotted men so black their skin seemed to glow almost blue in the sunlight.

When at last the wagons were ready and the horses hitched to their back, they set off for the train station, careful not to stray too far from the wagons’ wake lest they be lost among the crowds. Trying to take everything in, Anne hardly noticed that passerby were stopping to spare at least a second glance toward the large and odd group practically parading through the streets of the city.

At one of the vendors near the train station, Phillip bought her a meat pie to try. The rich flaky crust gave way to meat kept soft by steam and flavored with onions and spices she had never tasted before. She enjoyed it so much that he bought her a second.

By late afternoon they were traveling toward London, the English countryside sliding by outside the train’s soot darkened windows, which dimmed some of the landscape's beauty. While the Barnums traveled in the first class carriage, Phillip sat with everyone else on the hard benches that served as seating. He answered whatever questions everyone had about the country to the best of his ability. Anne half listened as she watched the hills and farms go by.

The land and the forests here were softer than they were in America, not as rugged and more cultivated. She wished she could see the moors that she had read of but those, Phillip told her, were much farther north.   

It was just nearing dark when the farms began to give way to more and more clusters of buildings. Phillip announced they were nearing London and warned everyone to be extra careful of their bags once they left the train lest they be pickpocketed or stolen altogether.

At last they pulled into Paddington Station, which was just as impressive as the Lime Street one in Liverpool. A huge curved ceiling set with windows covered the tracks and platform. The night sky was visible through the glass overhead although the stars were obscured by what looked like fog. Through tall brick arches on either side of the platform Anne could see more platforms and trains. Even Barnum looked uncertain in so grand a space, leaving it to Phillip and the porters to herd everyone through the station and to the carriages and wagons that waited. It was too late for the horses and equipment to be delivered to the Alhambra so they would be kept at a nearby stable overnight.

“Pip!” someone shouted as they emerged into the cold, damp night beyond the station. Fog hung in the air but also a grittiness that in the damp made her hands feel sticky and dry.

Several figures converged on and swallowed up Phillip who was still in the lead. In the glow of the street lamps, Anne could see that they were as finely dressed as he. Laughing, he eventually worked himself free of their embraces. One of the young men broke off to help Barnum arrange everything that was to be left behind overnight.

Standing toward the back of the crowd, Anne could not hear what was said but soon enough understood that his friends had been holding the carriages that would take them to their hotel.

“Believe me, you don’t want to walk through the streets of London at night if you don’t have to,” Phillip promised when she protested the expense as he helped her into one of the vehicles. He gave the driver instructions and left the fare in Sean’s care.

It was a short ride to their destination where the hotel staff greeted all of them eagerly and showed them to their rooms, which included additional sleeping pallets to accommodate the number of people who would be sharing them. Exhausted and eager to get out of her traveling clothes, Anne changed into her nightgown and was asleep before everyone else was even settled.

Worried that the ten day ocean crossing had affected their preparedness for their opening in London, Barnum insisted that they begin rehearsals at the Alhambra the next afternoon. In the light of day, Anne understood why Phillip had cautioned against walking through the city in the dark. The streets were piled with what looked like mud but the smell revealed to be horse manure. Everywhere she looked there were horses and children darting in and out of their legs to scoop up the droppings nearly as soon as they landed.

Fortunately, the theater was not far from their lodgings. Across the square it was impossible to miss with its towering facade and the two round spires rising on either side of the roof. Odd horseshoe shaped arches decorated in beautiful mosaics capped each door. All of the tall windows of the building’s front curved at the top, meeting in a point. The architecture was unlike anything Anne had seen before.

Inside was far larger than their circus in New York. An entire sold out audience there could fit into the ground level standing room area that surrounded the ring. Above that were two levels of balconies that circled the entire interior, the pillars and boxes painted in intricate designs similar to those on the outside of the building.

Anne’s heart stuttered at the sheer size. She had never performed anywhere so big. Beside her WD nervously rolled his shoulders. Timing was everything in their act, and this space was going to change everything.

In the days that followed, Anne had little time to think about Phillip as she and WD practiced their ground routines until they were sure they were fully limber and coordinated. Their first time in the air, Anne spent the morning and beginning of the afternoon feeling as if her stomach had disappeared, leaving an uncomfortable sensation in her middle. Her practice outfit was soaked with perspiration by the time Barnum allowed them to quit.

Back on the ground, Anne stood outside of the ring, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. Their timing was still slightly off, even after nearly a full day of practice. As Tirza had always said, timing was the difference between taking a bow and meeting death. Anne’s head buzzed with the adrenaline that had been pumping through her body all day as they avoided several near misses.

“Are you okay?” Barnum asked.

Startled, she looked up. She had not heard or noticed his approach. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened with concern as his keen hazel gaze swept over her.

“Yes,” she replied automatically.

He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “You’re trembling.”

“I am?” Her brain could not seem to keep up with her mouth.

He waved to one of the crew. “Moe, bring her some water, will you?”

Returning his gaze to her, he asked quietly, “Are you sure you can do this, Anne? I won’t have you go up there again if you have even a hint of doubt.”

Embarrassed, she wiped away the sweat gathering on her upper lip. Not since she was around thirteen had she had a reaction like this to her work. _Pull yourself together_ , she chided, _before he grounds you_ . _Or fires you._

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Barnum smiled crookedly. The effect softened his sharp features. “Be honest with me because I don’t think I’ll be able to find a better trapeze artist if I have to replace you.”

That drew a laugh from her. Even if he was just flattering her, it was what she needed to hear. She could do this. “I’m being honest.”

“Good,” he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Get some water and take the rest of the afternoon off. Tell WD the same. You two need a break before you hurt yourselves.”

Anne thanked him. He nodded and strode off, his attention already elsewhere as he wrangled his troupe into form.  

“My lady.” The voice that spoke was rich and low. She turned and froze.

The man who held out a tin cup to her wore an ironic smile on his full lips. He was tall, about the same height as WD. His charcoal black beard was closely trimmed, but his thick hair fell in perfect waves just past his shoulders. His skin was a rich brown. The dark eyes that watched her were both calculating and mesmerizing, playfully aware that her silence had gone on too long.

“Do you still want the water?”

Anne nodded and extended her hands for the cup. “Thank you.”

He watched as she brought it to her lips and took a sip. She was acutely aware of each of her motions from the way her mouth fit around the rim to the roll of her throat as she swallowed.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded again.

He swept a dramatic bow. “Excellent. Delighted I could finally be of service to a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Not sure whether to thank him or chide him for his flirtation, she could only blink as her words became a tangled mess in her head. “Your name is Moe?” she managed to get out at last.

He smiled. “At your service, most magnificent lady. And yours is Anne.” His eyes twinkled at her surprise, and he left her to finish her water without another word.

Anne stared after his retreating back, her drink half forgotten.

The sound of WD’s chuckle drew her back to her senses. “Surprised it’s taken you so long to notice him, sis. He’s already done a number on most of the other women. Barnum thought he’d be a distraction but considering they’re tripping over themselves to impress him, he’s actually turned out to be a boon.”

“I’m not trying to impress anybody,” Anne said loftily.

WD’s expression turned thoughtful. “Might be too late for that. He’s been asking about you since the beginning.”

“And you didn’t tell him off?” she teased.

If Anne did not know better, she would say for a moment her brother looked ashamed before he flashed her a grin. “Of course I did. Why do you think it took him so long to get up the courage to talk to you?”

She could think of several reasons and people aside from her brother who might have made that the case. And one of those was Phillip. Anne felt a pang of guilt. She had hardly seen him in the last week while he made sure that everything was prepared for their opening night. She had also done her best to avoid thinking about him until now.

While she changed into her street clothes, she remembered the way Moe flirted with her. How effortlessly and boldly. Of course she had been taken aback. With Phillip there could be no such easy exchange, nothing said without carrying the weight of implications. Nearly every interaction between them had been so fraught.

Whatever he was, wherever he was from, Moe did not seem to have to consider who or what she was. It had been so long since she had been able to forget herself and just enjoy the moment. Amused, she wondered what he had asked and what he had heard about her.

With free time now on their hands, Anne and WD meandered back toward their lodgings, enjoying the various shop windows along the way. She spent some time admiring a dress in one of the storefronts. A beautiful silk butterfly with exquisite beading adorned the bodice. The colorful silk accents and beading detail continued down the sleeves. Purple ribbon defined the waist of the flowing night blue skirt.

Rolling his eyes, WD finally pulled her away. “You couldn’t afford it anyway,” he reminded her when she protested.

“I can at least dream,” she retorted, winding her arm through his.  

Upon returning to the hotel, Anne immediately went to her room to wash up. Grateful to have the bathroom to herself, she took her time bathing away the sweat and grime of the day’s practice using some of the scented oils that Cecelia had brought with her.

She was dressed and trying to pin her hair into a style she had seen a woman on the street wearing when there was a knock at her door. Giving up on her tresses, she let them fall loose down her back.

It was Phillip. Her face warmed at her recollection of Moe from earlier, but he was so preoccupied with his own embarrassment that hers went unnoticed. He licked his lips.

“WD said Barnum gave you the afternoon off. Do you have plans?”

“I had not thought of anything yet,” she admitted.

His face lit with a smile. “You haven’t? Would you like to go to the British Museum? I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Anne had no idea what a museum was but did not want to admit that to him. Instead she said, “That sounds lovely. Is it easy to find?”

“We’ll take a carriage.”

“We?”

Phillip blushed, his cheeks and neck going bright pink. “I thought we could go. Together?” he finished uncertainly.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have to stay if it isn't.”

Still Anne hesitated. He waited for her to decide, his eyes round with hope. At last she sighed. “I just need to finish pinning up my hair.”

“Yes then?” he confirmed breathlessly as if he had to be sure she was agreeing.

She smiled at last. “Yes.”

“Excellent! Is that the most formal dress you brought with you?”

“I have another one.”

“Wear the other one.”

She agreed to meet him downstairs as soon as she was ready. Anne exchanged the dress she had only just put on for one of such deep plum that it appeared almost brown. The outfit, along with several others, was a gift from Mrs. Alston who insisted Anne must be properly attired to meet the Queen of England.

Another knock at the door revealed the maid Phillip sent up to do her hair. The young woman, about Anne’s age, worked deftly to work her curls into a beautiful arrangement on top of her head.

Staring at the end result, Anne hardly recognized herself. The subtle frill that lined her rather daring but tasteful neckline helped accentuate the elegance of her neck. Her hair, which she usually allowed to have its way, had been braided, twisted, and tucked into an elegant updo that helped elongate her round face. She certainly did not look like the girl from the circus.

She allowed the maid to help her into her cloak, hat, and gloves. When she was done assisting, the woman curtsied herself out. Left alone, Anne stood in the center of the small room steadying herself.

Once they emerged from the hotel, she and Phillip would be exposed. Going to the museum would not be like him escorting her to the police station where the nature of their relationship could be obscured by the obviousness of their purpose. Nor would it be like their journey on the ship where he was an employer attending to his employee. She steeled herself for the looks of disgust, at best impolite interest.

At least they would face them together.

Her trepidation faded some at the look on Phillip’s face when she appeared in the sitting room. His expression of awe quickly gave way to a smile. “You’ll put all of the ladies there to shame,” he murmured when he drew close.  

She laughed. “Then that would be a poor showing of my sex.”

“Hardly. You are a force to be reckoned with Anne Wheeler.” He beckoned one of the porters and requested a hansom. They followed him outside.

“A force to be reckoned with?” she asked archly.

On the stairs, Phillip turned to her, amused. “You say that as if you don’t know it yourself.”

“Most men believe it enough to compliment a woman’s beauty,” she observed as she watched the porter brave the foot traffic to flag down a cab for them.

“And would that impress you?” he asked with a quirk to his lips.

“No,” she admitted.

“Well I aim to impress.”

The porter had succeeded in hailing their hansom. Phillip took her elbow as they hurried forward to claim it. “We’ve not yet agreed that to be a force to be reckoned with is a compliment,” she reminded him.

He grinned as he assisted her into the vehicle. “Then lest there be any misunderstanding, let it be known that it is a trait I deeply admire in you.” He handed a coin to the porter and settled in beside her as they set out for the British Museum.

“Odd that you admire the very thing that might hamper your pursuit.”

“Not so,” he said, becoming serious. “It’s what makes it worth it.” Before the weight of his words could settle, he changed the subject. “Do you have any idea what you’re about to see?”

When at last Anne had to admit her ignorance, he chuckled and told her the experience would be even better for her lack of certainty.

Anne leaned forward when he told her they were approaching the building. Her jaw dropped in awe at the magnificent neoclassical structure with its many columns and giant portico. It looked like a palace. Phillip laughed when she told him and warned her that Buckingham Palace looked very different, although it was no less impressive.

He paid the driver and handed her out of the cab. She was so busy staring up at the building that she did not realize that she still gripped his hand as he led her up the grand stairs. She had to crane her neck back to see the elaborate relief carved across the pediment. Even if the building were empty, she would leave impressed.

But it was not empty. It was filled with treasures and artifacts she never could have imagined from places she had never heard of. The museum seemed to simultaneously hold the entire world and all of time. If people stared at them, Anne was too enthralled to notice.

They stopped before a giant granite bust of Pharaoh Ramesses II brought from Egypt. The carved face looked benevolent, the empty eyes free of the squint of suspicion or accusation, the mouth upturned in faint pleasure. How strange to see physical proof of the ancient Biblical land. The pharaoh reminded her of a song that WD used to sing to her when they were children. Was this the pharaoh or the descendant of the one whom Moses petitioned to let his people go?

Phillip interrupted her thoughts. “Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote his poem Ozymandias about this statue.”

“I don’t know it,” she told him. They were alone in the gallery and so he recited for her:

“I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Though he spoke softly, his voice echoed in the cavernous room, just as Ozymandias’ decree echoed through the lines of the poem both solidified and distorted through time and tellers of his story.  

“Is that what you think of when you see this?” she asked.

“It makes me wonder whether our achievements are determined by our time or what and those who come after. If what we think and judge of ourselves now can only fall short of those who come behind us. Will our children and theirs look back on what we think we have built and perhaps see nothing but a wreck or emptiness?”

She wondered too. Whether when his children looked back and hers looked back they would see the same thing. Would his see the former greatness of the statue and hers only its sneer of cold command? Whereas his might feel loss, would hers feel relief?

She hoped that he had a copy of the poem in his library that she might study further. And perhaps learn more of Shelley. If Miss Swann--Mrs. Blake--ever received and responded to her letter, she hoped to be able to tell her about this moment in this gallery in this country and all of her thoughts on the poem and how the face it portrayed was so different from the one she was standing before, and yet the sonnet captured a far greater truth than what had been rendered in stone.

“So you only think of the poem when you see this?” Anne asked at last, gesturing to the larger than life pharaoh.

Phillip frowned as if he had never considered how he viewed it. “I read Ozymandias before I came here so in some ways it was my first view of the statue. I guess they have always been inextricably linked for me then. What did you think of when you saw it?”

“A song WD used to sing to me. One our mother sang to him.” She cleared her throat and low and quiet began to sing. Uncertain how he might respond, Anne kept her eyes firmly on the bust’s oddly youthful face. Among the Greek works they had seen, the figures meant to be wise or leaders were carved with aged, stern features.  

“Go down Moses, way down in Egypt land, tell all pharaohs to let my people go! When Israel was in Egypt land, let my people go! Oppressed so hard they could not stand, let my people go.”

He did not stop her so she kept singing until she got to the end. “Tell all pharaohs to let my people go.”

When she finished, she realized he was no longer by her side. She turned to find him standing a few steps behind her, his hands clasped behind his back, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Anne waited for him to say something.

At last he cleared his throat. “I’ve never heard that song before.”

“I guess they sang it on the plantation. Where WD was born. Or the one where I was. Born, that is.”

As she had on the ship, she felt as if they were drifting, unanchored from the world. In these few moments, in this magnificent building in a far away country, she had revealed more about her past and where she came from to Phillip than she had to anyone except Mrs. Blake and Cecelia.

“He’s an Egyptian pharaoh. That’s what made me think of it. Although,” she turned back to look at the towering chest and head before her, “if he looks upon pain and suffering, he does not see it.”

“Maybe because it isn’t there.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But believing someone to be good, even believing ourselves to be good, does not stop or even reduce the harm of his or our own actions if they are wrong. And when we believe something of ourselves, it is hard to see around it.”

Phillip shook himself. “Sometimes you make me forget that I am the writer of the two of us.” He returned to her side.

They moved on from Ramesses II, but Phillip barely spoke again, leaving her to read what was provided on the cards to learn about the things she saw.

At first she worried about his silence, wondering if she had said something to upset him. But then he asked about her mother and after learning Anne could not remember her, he returned to his quiet until he asked about her first memory and a few more questions about the song. Once she realized he was thinking about what she said about the bust, she wanted to know what was on his mind. But he said only that he was wondering how much in the world he had missed.

Anne knew that in her own moments of revelation, she preferred to be left to her thoughts. With such wonderful things to explore, she did not need him to entertain her anyway. He gladly broke from his musings to answer any questions she had but otherwise the rest of their visit was much quieter.

She had hardly had her fill when they were politely told it was closing time and invited to return again on another day. Anne hope she would have time. 

Emerging into the fading light of day, she blinked as if waking from a dream. They stood on the portico, looking down upon the busy street before them but still held within the building’s grandeur.

“You promised me London would be grander and grimier,” she said, hoping to return some levity to their outing. “You are a man of your word.”

“Did you enjoy it, Anne?”

“I could spend a whole week in there and not have enough time.” 

He smiled happily at her delight. “I cannot give you a whole week, but perhaps there will be some time for you to come again.”

“I hope so,” she agreed.

He presented his arm to her, and she took it.

"It's an unusually lovely evening," he observed. "Would you care for a meat pie and a stroll?"

Anne gently squeezed his forearm where her hand rested. "I would love both. But let's enjoy just a few more moments of splendor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LAST THEY'RE IN LONDON!!! Lol now I get why the movie basically shows an exterior of Buckingham Palace and them meeting the Queen before woop woop they're back in NY. Historically portraying two cities IS HARD. Moe's been hanging out in my mind for awhile waiting for a chance to sweep Anne off her feet, and he finally got it. Do you think she'll fall for it or will he be just a pretty face?
> 
> P.S. Does the name Shelley ring familiar? Although he was the superstar in their time, you're more likely familiar with Percy Bysshe Shelley's wife these days. That would be Mary Shelley, author of Frankenstein.


	11. Colossal we come these renegades in the ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been another long road to get here, but here we are! Another chapter. I love reading your thoughts on each of the chapters. They make me laugh, think, and even cry on occasion. They definitely carry me through those rough moments when things just aren't going my way, when I have to delete whole passages that just aren't working. 
> 
> My writing soundtrack has pretty much been contained to The Greatest Showman soundtrack, instrumental/acoustic versions of Rewrite the Stars, a mash up of This Is Me/You Will Be Found, Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen, and the A Wrinkle in Time soundtrack. So if you have music that you think of when reading this, PLEASE SHARE!!!

Anne and WD were among the earliest to arrive at the theater the next morning. They drilled their simplest air routine over and over until their bodies adjusted to the new space. Gradually they introduced the more complicated elements, making sure each was mastered before they moved on to the next. 

She could tell that their progress was not as fast as Barnum wanted, but he knew the risks of pushing them harder. He would just have to trust that she and WD were doing everything they could to reach the routine they had created for their London debut. They had two days left. 

To her surprise, Moe was waiting with a cup of water for her when she climbed down from the high board for her first break. This time, she did not find herself as tongue-tied.

“Has Barnum appointed you water runner?” she asked lifting a brow but accepting the drink gratefully.

His mouth slid easily into his charming, ironic smile. “My mother taught me that a servant should know where he is needed before he is wanted.” 

“I have no need of a servant,” she told him.

“But we can be as much servants to our own desires as we can to people, wouldn’t you agree?” He was so sure of himself, recklessly bold. Amusement underlay everything he said almost masking the intensity of his focus on her as he hung close to catch even the smallest of her reactions. 

“No. One can exercise control over his desires.” She took a sip of the water so that she had an excuse to drop her gaze.

Moe chuckled throatily. “And what fun would that be, Anne?” he said, lowering his voice as if inviting her into a secret. Her heart quickened as he leaned in ever so slightly. She liked how his accent emphasized the vowel and softened the middle of her name.

Anne narrowed her eyes. “You are a flirt and possibly a scoundrel,” she accused levelly. She threw her head back and drained the cup before holding it out to him. 

For a moment he did not move, but his eyes were laughing. Then he took the cup from her. 

“And you, my lady, are afraid,” he replied before strolling away. 

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Once again she was left watching after him in bemusement. There were many things she was afraid of but Moe was not one of them, although his flirting unsettled her. Anne was not so naive that a wink and a whisper could sweep her off her feet, but he aroused her curiosity. That was a dangerous road, she knew. Phillip’s feelings for her were clear and although hers were far less certain, or perhaps more complicated, she had done nothing to discourage his since that awful night in the carriage. She still did not see a way forward for them, but he did. Responding to Moe’s interest would hurt Phillip deeply and whatever her feelings in either direction, she was unwilling to do that for a man she knew nothing about who would disappear from her life in a matter of days. 

Moe had hardly faded into the shadows of the tunnel that led backstage when Cecelia slipped over. She was frighteningly thin after their journey, her cheeks still hollowed out though her color had returned. 

“If you’re not careful, you’ll get him fired.” 

Anne squatted to rub her hands through the sawdust on the floor to scrub the sweat from them. “If he chooses to shirk his responsibilities, that’s not my fault.” She straightened up. 

Cecelia’s eyes narrowed. “I meant Phillip. If he sees him lingering around you…” 

With a sigh, Anne brushed the remaining dust off on her trunks. “Cece, if Phillip doubts where he stands with me then he should discuss that with me. But as yet we are not courting so I owe him no obligation.” 

Her friend’s eyes widened. “So you want him to court you?” 

“I don’t plan to become a kept woman. Whether he chooses to court me is up to him.” 

Cecelia plucked at the homespun dress she wore for practice, her lips twisted while she considered her next words. “Nee, love does not have to exist only within a marriage. In fact, that is not always the first or best place to find it.” 

Anne glanced toward Deng. True. Both she and Cecelia seemed content with their arrangement.

“Who says it’s love anyway?” she grumbled. “I was enjoying myself when we were not talking about this. Phillip spends enough time on my mind.” 

“We haven’t talked about Moe before,” Cecelia said mischievously. 

Anne gave her a little shove. “Enough,” she retorted before scrambling back up the ladder to resume practicing.

Opening night, Anne paced backstage. She could hear the roar of the crowd beyond the tunnel. It was louder than any she had heard before and an unusual case of nerves was building within her. She paused from time to time in her march to and fro to shake out her arms and legs lest her anxiousness cause her muscles to get too tight. 

All around her was a frenzy of activity. Barnum, an electric storm of energy, went from person to person making sure everyone was outfitted to his expectations and everything was in place. The animals were trotted out for the opening. Charles dressed as Napoleon was already in his special saddle. Several horses carrying the equestrian performers followed not far behind. Moe led half of them. He winked when he saw her looking in his direction.

Anne quickly looked away. She needed to stay focused. 

“If your plan is to wear out the floor in a night, you’re on your way to success,” drawled WD as he sauntered around from the men’s dressing room. He was commanding and handsome in his purple cape.  

Anne stopped short in her pacing and scowled at him. She was not sure whether she ought to be soothed or disconcerted by his nonchalance. 

“Something to remember me by if I fall to my death,” she quipped. 

WD did not look amused. “Do you have so little faith in me sis?” 

“This isn’t about you.” 

“Oh, it’s not? Is it about your two suitors who will get to tragically mourn you when you’re gone then?” 

She exhaled in exasperation. “WD!” she complained. “It’s that all eyes will be on us in this huge theater.” Anne waved her arm wildly toward the noise coming from the arena. 

Her brother shrugged. “Don’t think of it like that. It’s just you and me. Like it’s always been.” He strode forward to place his hands on her shoulders. She looked up into his face. His expression was certain and calm. “Remember, I will always catch you,” he promised.  

She placed her hands over his and took a steadying breath. “And I will always trust you to catch me.” 

WD smiled. “Repeat it. Like you mean it, Annie.” 

Her eyes met his and found his faith in her within them. That faith radiated from his hands and his smile and enveloped her. All that mattered tonight was that she trusted him.

“I will always trust you to catch me,” she obeyed. 

WD pulled her into a hug. “That’s more like it.” 

Barnum eventually made his way over to them. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glowed brightly. The air around him crackled. He looked them over and grinned. “Ready?” he asked. 

“Yes sir,” WD told him with a nod. 

“Good. Anne, you’re going to set them on their ears!” he promised before whirling off.

“It’ll be a wonder if he has anything left for the show,” Anne marveled. 

WD rubbed his hands together. “He has something to prove, and he won’t rest until he does.”

And prove himself Barnum did. Anne felt the magic of the performance that night. She sailed through the air as if her shoulder scarves had transformed to wings. When she struck her pose at the end of their act, her arms outstretched and her chin angled toward the ceiling, she could feel the thunder of the applause in her very bones. 

The finale shook the rafters of the theater. P.T. Barnum and his circus had become a London sensation. 

And Anne had become its darling. 

Phillip was at the far end of the tunnel when they cleared the arena. He caught Anne’s arm as she passed him on her way to the dressing room she shared with the other women. “Wait! Don’t change yet!” he called over the noise of everyone’s excitement. “Everyone wants to meet you.” 

Anne drew closer to hear him better. “Meet me?” 

Phillip beamed at her and moved his grip to her hand. “Anne, they’re in love with you.” 

He led her through the performers to find WD and then brought them up to a box filled with men and women in evening attire. Barnum was already there with Charity at his side. While the ringmaster basked in the attention showered upon them, Anne was embarrassed by it. She curtsied and nodded her way through introduction after introduction and congratulations, grateful for her brother and Phillip at her sides. 

Some of the men to whom she was presented were Phillip’s university friends who called him “Pip.” She recognized a few as the ones who had greeted them at Paddington Station upon their arrival in London a week prior.  

Her pink hair was the subject of many inquiries and much curiosity. She wished for a coverup under the ladies’ scrutinizing gazes and several looks of more than interest from a few of the gentlemen. Phillip noticed and steered her clear of them. 

At last, Anne and WD were permitted to excuse themselves. The dressing room was nearly deserted by the time she finally returned to change and set her things away for the night. Only Lettie and Cecelia remained. 

“Where have you been?” Lettie demanded from where she lounged on an old settee they had found backstage and dragged into the curtained area for seating. 

Anne apologized and thanked them for waiting. She should have told someone where she was going. “There were some people that Phillip wanted me to meet,” she said cautiously. She did not want her friends to think that she had been singled out for her performance.

Cecelia narrowed her eyes. She sat on one of the vanity stools. “What kind of people?” 

Anne floundered for an answer. “I don’t remember half their names,” she mumbled. 

Lettie sat up, her eyes alight with interest. “Were they friends of his?” 

“A few,” she admitted. 

“And who were the rest?” Cecelia pressed. 

Anne shrugged. “A bunch of important people, I guess. They were in one of the boxes.” 

Cecelia cocked her head. “They asked to meet you, didn’t they?” 

“If I had known, I would have insisted all of us go,” Anne said miserably. She waited for the anger and hurt to fall over her friends’ faces. But neither looked disappointed, merely curious on Lettie’s part and thoughtful on Cecelia’s. 

“They only have a week to sell the show,” Cecelia said at last. “They need a sensational star, and you’re it.”

“Me?” Anne asked bemused.

Lettie snorted and settled back on the settee. “Don’t act like you don’t see the effect you have on people, Anne. It’s coy, and that’s annoying.”

She smoothed her leotard before hanging it up. “I don’t want anything more than the show’s success.”

“Be nice and that’s what you’ll get,” Lettie assured her. “Just glad it’s not me.” 

WD popped his head in. “Oh, hello! Didn’t realize we weren’t the only ones still here.” He strolled in and sprawled in one of the chairs while Anne finished brushing her wig. 

“Anne didn’t have the grace to tell any of us where she was going,” Lettie complained good naturedly. “We were afraid she would be walking back alone.” 

“That’s kind of y’all,” WD grinned. “Good to know I’m not the only one keeping an eye on her these days.” 

“I don’t think I could sneeze without someone noticing,” Anne grumbled. 

Cecelia pretended to look sympathetic. “Poor Anne. So loved.” 

“Oh!” 

WD had not closed the curtains behind him. Phillip stood there now looking embarrassed at his intrusion. Anne’s face warmed. He more than likely had come in search of her. Lettie folded her hands across her bosom and looked expectantly from Anne to Phillip. Both WD and Cecelia at least tried to put on an air of surprise. 

“Looks like we have quite a party for staying so late,” Lettie observed. “Join us, Carlyle. Anne was just telling us how much she enjoyed meeting her devoted admirers this evening.” 

Phillip glanced at Anne who shrugged. “This is what you’ve exposed me to,” she lamented, gesturing to a smug looking Lettie. 

“WD was there too,” he said, coming to her defense. He hesitated. “I think he may have enjoyed it more than she did.” 

Lettie laughed immediately shortly followed by Cecelia. WD’s eyebrows shot up in shock at Phillip’s rejoinder. Anne let them all briefly see her grin before she turned to put her brush away. 

“Is that true?” Lettie wanted to know. 

“If it is, it’s because Anne was the one they truly wanted to see,” WD admitted. “She did most of the talking. I was just the big brother tagging along.” 

“It’s the pink hair,” she told them with a laugh. “They wouldn’t know me from Eve without it.” 

“Maybe I’ll dye my hair green for tomorrow then,” Lettie joked. 

Cecelia chortled. “Purple would go better with your dress.” 

“You’re right. Or perhaps a turban of flowers would be less permanent.”

They all laughed at the image of Lettie with a head full of blooms. Anne announced that she was ready to leave. WD stood and helped Cecelia into her coat. Anne was pulling on her own cloak when it was lifted gently from her hands. She looked around to see Phillip right behind her, holding the garment up. 

“May I help you with this?” he murmured. 

Her eyes darted to her brother who kept his face carefully neutral. Anne nodded. Phillip settled the cloak around her and gave her a soft smile meant just for her. Her back warmed from more than the cloak’s presence. 

Lettie tapped WD’s arm and cleared her throat quietly to indicate that they should proceed first. He rolled his shoulders and followed her lead, Cecelia falling in beside them. Anne waited for her brother to glance back and then look ahead again before she took the arm Phillip offered. 

“You aren’t leaving with your friends?” she asked quietly as they made their way through the darkening theater. The crew would be leaving soon. Her eyes scanned the dimness for Moe as they passed the pens for the animals. The horses had been stabled for the night already. There was no sign of the tall handler. Anne was relieved that he was not there to see her with Phillip.   

“I am meeting them soon. I thought you may need someone to walk you home.” 

“WD would not have left me,” she pointed out absently. She wondered if anyone had warned Moe about Phillip’s interest in her. Was he reckless enough to continue to pursue her or would he back off? 

Phillip placed his gloved hand over hers, drawing her attention back to him. “And I wanted to extend several invitations to you. Of course it’s up to you to accept, but one is my friend George’s, and you would do me an honor if you accepted to attend as my special guest.” 

“I have to perform,” Anne protested. When did he expect her to have time for parties? And he wanted her to go as his guest? She wondered what his friends would say. 

“Barnum’s granted his permission.” 

Still she hesitated. 

“George has arranged a surprise that I think you’ll enjoy very much.” She frowned at him for dangling this last bit of enticement before her. Phillip grinned unabashedly.

“How can I say no now,” she said bitingly. 

He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand in apology. “Please, Anne? I’ll say no to all the others if you accept this one.” 

She could hardly believe that she had been invited to a party of one of Phillip’s friends. She had little idea of how to comport herself, what she would talk about. In truth, the invitation frightened her. But Phillip’s expression was so pleading that she felt her resolve slipping. His thumb continued to rub circles on her hand, both a distraction and a deep comfort. 

“You promise not to make me attend any others?” she confirmed. They had emerged into the crisp night air. Still it was almost too warm for her cloak. A hint of spring was in the air. 

He pulled her closer to him. “You will disappoint many people if you refuse. But if that’s what you want, I’ll promise.” 

“It’s what I want,” she told him firmly. 

“You could be a star, Anne. You could stay here and live comfortably while reveling in the adoring attention of your wealthy admirers. You wouldn’t face here what you do in America.” 

“And what would you do?” she asked. “If I stayed.” 

Phillip looked at her. “Whatever you wanted me to.” 

The expression in his eyes reminded her of what Moe had said about people being servants to their desires. Phillip was offering her his life to command. He had not said that he would stay if she did. She could send him away if she wanted to. How could he so easily attach his desires to hers? Did the act of doing so make him happy? All of this could end unhappily. He was too intelligent not to realize that. 

“I don’t want my comfort to depend on the whims of others,” she said finally. 

His lips curled up in an affectionate half smile. “Ever distrusting.” 

“Perhaps,” Anne admitted quietly. “But it’s kept me safe.” 

His smile turned regretful. “I suppose it has.” 

\--

Promoting the show and settling its payments had prevented Phillip from spending much time at the arena their first week in London. After the successful opening, he decided to take the next morning off from visits and appointments to spend the morning at the Alhambra with the troupe. 

Charity wanted to rest so he agreed to bring Caroline and Helen with him. The two girls skipped along beside him on their short trip to the theater. The day was overcast and damp but this did not affect their high spirits. 

Caroline stopped along the way to admire a dress in one of the shop windows. It was dark blue with a butterfly on the front. “I wish I was old enough to wear that,” she sighed. “Long skirts are so much more elegant.” 

Helen scrunched up her nose. “How do you run in that?” 

“You don’t,” Caroline sniffed. 

“That’s boring,” Helen complained. 

“You’ll have to wear them someday,” her sister retorted. 

Helen shook her head. “I’m going to wear pants like Phillip.” Although she had her mother’s blond hair, Helen took after her restless father. Phillip turned a snort into a cough. 

“Ladies don’t wear pants,” Caroline said, her voice thick with superiority.

“Then I won’t be a lady.”

Caroline opened her mouth to start an argument, but Phillip interrupted.

“We’re going to miss some of the practice if we don’t hurry.”

Helen took her sister’s hand and tugged the older girl along. “Come  _ on _ !” 

The rehearsal was in full swing by the time they arrived. He led the girls up to one of the boxes where they could sit and watch. 

Anne was in the air, weaving her way through her hoop. Phillip guessed that following her popularity the night before, Barnum had given her a solo. Her fearlessness never ceased to awe him even as his heart hammered in fear that she might fall. 

George had sent a note their first day in London to say that Pablo Fanque was set to attend one of the Barnum Circus’ performances. The circus proprietor was to be his friend’s guest for the evening and once again at a soiree that George was hosting, the only party that Anne had agreed to attend. Once she had given him her consent, it had been little work to get WD to come. 

He planned for the entire meeting between the proprietor and siblings to be a surprise. Phillip imagined the barely contained look of excitement on Anne’s face, the look of gratitude she would send his way. 

Anne was not an easy woman to win over. Right now, his sole source of sustenance as he continued to pursue her was that she had not run when his confession had tumbled out of his mouth that night on the ship. 

He loved her. He should not have said it then but one day he hoped he could say those words to her and so much more, and she would tell him that she loved him back. He longed for the day she might envelope him in that soft glow she saved for only Cecelia and WD. 

The hoop holding Anne descended with her sitting poised within it. She alighted when it hovered just above the floor and went to the edge of the practice ring. A tall, dark man emerged from the shadows and handed her something. Anne took it and tilted her head back. Whoever it was watched while she drank. He leaned in close when they talked. Anne did not pull back. 

Phillip frowned and squinted. He did not recognize the person she was talking to. 

“Girls, do you know who that is?” he asked, pointing toward where Anne stood. 

Helen leaned against the front of the box to get a better look. Then she said with a grin, “That’s Moe! He lets us pet the horses.” 

Moe. Moe must be one of the local crew members that he had hired. 

Phillip told the girls he had to see to something. Caroline wanted to watch from the first level now that Anne was no longer practicing, so he brought them down with him and instructed them to stay behind the half wall unless they were with their father. Then he hurried off around the ring. Backstage he had to maneuver around trunks and crates of equipment from old shows. In his rush, he bumped into more than a few and had scramble to catch a glass looking orb that he knocked off its perch. He passed the curtained area that served as the women’s dressing room. Past the tunnel to the arena and the men’s dressing area was where the animals were kept.

Moe was there, lit by the light from one of the alley doors that had been propped open for fresh air. One of the horses was snuffling an apple from his outstretched palm. 

Phillip cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he called. 

Moe turned. He was remarkably handsome and the confidence in his face said he was well aware of it. The Indian looked down his long nose at Phillip, mild interest in his dark eyes. “Yes, Mr. Carlyle, I assume?” 

“Yes,” Phillip said coolly. “You were hired on my behalf.” 

“It is an honor to finally meet then.” Moe’s voice revealed no hesitation or intimidation. 

His confidence annoyed Phillip. 

“Has Mr. Barnum asked you to provide our performers with water?” 

The man’s pleasant demeanor did not crack. “I was hired to tend the horses, and perform other duties as necessary.” 

“That does not answer my question,” Phillip snapped. 

“I do not provide water to the performers.” 

“Then please explain your presence at the ring a few minutes ago.” 

The horse he had been feeding butted his arm for more treats. Moe scratched its neck. “I brought water to Miss Wheeler.” 

“Miss Wheeler is perfectly capable of getting her own water if she wants it. Please stick to the duties for which you were hired. Am I clear?” 

“Entirely,” Moe replied with a quirk to his lips. 

Phillip scowled and fought down the impulse to fire him. Only knowing that would earn him Anne’s ire kept him from doing so. 

As if reading his thoughts, Moe said, “Everyone has bets on when you’ll fire me.” 

Curiosity got the better of Phillip’s anger. He had to admire this man’s complete disregard for his best interests. “Have you been neglecting your other duties? Do I have reason to?” 

“Where Miss Wheeler is concerned, I mean. The rumor is that she is your lover. Although her brother will set right anyone who dares to question his sister’s virtue.” 

Phillip could tell that Moe was watching him carefully for his reaction. An outburst of anger would suggest that there was truth to the rumor. Too muted a reaction, and the man might make his intentions more clear to Anne. 

“You hardly know Miss Wheeler then if you assume she is so careless with her dignity,” he said coolly. 

Moe raised an eyebrow. “Have you been so careless with hers then that those in your troupe are the ones who warned me?” 

Indignation surged in Phillip. “Anne Wheeler is not my lover. But you will do well to stay away from her if you value your current situation.” 

The man leaned against the pen and folded his arms. One of the horses ran its nose along his back. “With all due respect, Mr. Carlyle, are you taking her feelings into consideration in that threat?” 

Phillip drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. “Stay away from her.” He turned on his heel and stalked away. A part of him wanted to run into the arena to confront Anne right then. He was not sure if he would beg her to tell him how she felt about him or demand to know her feelings for Moe or just forbid her to stay away from the man altogether. 

He knew none of those would impress Anne. But he did not even have to wonder what she saw in Moe. The handler was enviably handsome and magnetic right down to his refusal to be intimidated. With Anne everything that made Phillip an ideal match in any other case was a liability. The color of his skin made her wary, his wealth made her uncomfortable, his family... Well that was something he did not even have the courage to broach. 

Phillip dropped onto a crate and buried his face in his hands. The embarrassment that his anger had kept at bay began to creep in. He had almost fired a man out of jealousy. He pushed his fingers into his hair and clutched his forehead. 

“Phillip!” 

It was Anne’s voice calling for him. She sounded anxious. 

“Phillip?” she called. 

A cruel urge in him hoped she could not find him. 

“Phillip!” Her voice was growing desperate. 

“Here,” he called back. “I’m here.” 

Anne jogged into view. Her face was flushed and her curls stuck to her neck and forehead with sweat. Relief flooded her face when she saw him. 

She hurried over and fell to her knees before him. “Lettie told me you were back here and that you had seen me with Moe and then you disappeared,” she said breathlessly. “You didn’t fire him did you?” Anne searched his face. “Did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” he whispered. 

She let out a breath and sat back on her heels. “Good. I would have felt so guilty if he’d been let go because of me.” 

“Is that why you were looking for me?” Phillip could not keep the hurt out of his voice. 

Anne laid a tentative hand on his knee. Her eyes were dark and sad when they looked up into his. “Last night, you told me that you would do whatever I wanted if I stayed here in England.”

A heavy weight settled in his chest. He gripped her hand, willing her not to tell him that she would let him go. But he would leave, if that was what she wanted. He could feel the fissures breaking out across his heart. 

“What would you want?” she asked. 

He did not hesitate. “To stay with you.” 

“And if I go home? Back to America.” 

“To leave with you.” 

Her neck and jaw were sticky under his hand but that only meant it was all the easier to hold onto her. He wanted to tell her that he had lost his heart to her long ago. Instead he said, “I don’t want you to be with him.” 

Anne’s face softened. The hand he was not gripping as if holding on for dear life came up to rest on his cheek. Her fingers were firm, her palms rough with callouses. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?” 

“Will you stay?” 

“Yes. I never had to choose.” 

Phillip wanted more than anything to kiss her. But he did not want to jeopardize Anne’s reputation anymore than it already had been. He would have to find who the source of those rumors were about them being lovers. 

“Lord above, the two of you are impossible!” exclaimed Lettie making both of them jump. Anne toppled over. “ _ Impossible _ .” 

Phillip reached down and helped Anne to her feet. 

“Do you ever mind your own business?” Anne demanded in exasperation. 

Lettie placed her hands on her hips. “If you two didn’t have so much trouble minding it for yourselves, I wouldn’t have to get involved.” 

“Maybe if everyone stayed out of it, it wouldn’t be so difficult,” Anne retorted. 

“You two would still be staring at one another like lost puppies in a storm if it weren’t for the rest of us.” 

Phillip snorted at Lettie’s choice in simile. 

Anne brushed off her trunks. “Don’t talk about  _ me _ when you go down to the sideshow once a week for a certain Richard,” she sniffed. 

Lettie’s eyes flew open, and she gaped at Anne. Phillip cocked his head in interest, not sure which of the women to press for more details. 

“Octavia told you,” Lettie accused. 

Anne shrugged. “I think it was WD.” 

Barnum appeared through the tunnel. “There you two are! You’re supposed to be rehearsing. What are you doing wasting time?” he barked. “This is our last rehearsal.” 

“It’s my fault,” Phillip spoke up. 

“Carlyle?” Barnum appeared at Lettie’s side. “What’s going on here?” 

“I felt a little dizzy. They came to check on me,” Anne lied smoothly. “I’m feeling better now though.”

Barnum’s anger slipped away. “Perhaps you should rest then.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Anne said firmly. “Come on Lettie. We should get back to work. Thank you, Mr. Carlyle.” 

She looped her arm through Lettie’s and off they went, the matter of Richard surely to be settled between the two of them later on. Phillip had his own questions for another time. Lettie made a show of asking after Anne as Barnum watched them leave. 

The ringmaster turned back to him. “Did you see the papers this morning?” 

Phillip moved forward to clap the older man on the shoulder. “If the  _ London Times _ takes a moment to note your success, we’re doing just fine,” he assured him. 

“Good. Very good,” Barnum replied still anxious. 

“This is why you brought me on,” Phillip laughed. “Now trust me.” 

“Right.” Barnum grinned crookedly. “I’m used to being the one to say that.” 

“Yes, and I’m not sure I feel all that better when you say it.” 

The ringmaster laughed as they followed the women back into the arena. 

The show sold out its second night. Phillip looked out over the packed theater with pride. He had helped build this phenomenon that brought so many people such joy. For the first time in a long time, he felt part of something. 

Henry, who was responsible for securing the invitation to an audience with the Queen, was one of his guests tonight. 

“You were the last one I would have expected to run off and join a circus,” Henry said with a laugh as he settled into his seat. “Now that I see it I suppose I have to believe it.” 

“You would not have compromised your reputation for an invitation if you didn’t believe it,” Phillip chuckled. 

“I’ve promised the Lord Chamberlain that this will be a delightful surprise for the Queen. My reputation is on the line yet.” 

“Watch and see if you have any doubts by the end,” Phillip suggested.

Once again, Barnum was determined to impress and everyone in the arena stretched themselves to meet his standards. Deng drew cries and gasps from the crowd with her wheel of death act, hurling knives in quick succession to thud between the limbs of her assistant who was strapped to a spinning wheel. People at first laughed and pointed at Lettie’s beard but her voice soon silenced them. 

Still, Anne was the undisputed star. And Barnum knew how to give a crowd what they wanted. Tonight, her hoop rose in a beam of light that winked off the sequins on her leotard. Her wig was lit like a pink halo about her head. Far above the crowd, she was otherworldly. 

“Who is that?” Henry breathed as Anne performed. 

Phillip looked over. His friend sat at the edge of his seat, captivated. Very briefly, he wished he had not fallen in love with such a beautiful woman. 

Henry elbowed his side as Anne finished and was lowered back to the ground. “Pip, you’ll have to introduce us.” He leaned in and whispered, “Perhaps she’ll let me show her some English hospitality.” 

Phillip balled his fists in his lap and still did not respond. He spent the rest of the show trying to figure out how to keep Anne away from his friend. 

Of course as soon as Henry’s desire to meet the exotic trapeze artist was communicated to Barnum after the show, there was no way to avoid an introduction. But Phillip could stall. 

“She is not herself this evening,” he lied. “If she does not rest, she might not be well enough for George’s soiree. Will you be going?” 

Henry’s look of disappointment turned eager. “Yes, I will be there.” 

Phillip forced a smile. “Excellent. You’ll get to meet her then.” 

Apparently, that was not soon enough for Henry for a large, beautiful arrangement of flowers from him to Anne arrived at the hotel the next morning during breakfast. The elegant display was accompanied by a note. Anne’s eyes widened when she scanned it, and she quickly hid it away. Phillip wondered what his friend had had the audacity to write. 

And Henry’s flowers were not the only ones. Several giant bouquets were delivered for her. There were also smaller ones of seasonal arrangements from less wealthy admirers too. Throughout the day notes poured in. Not just to her but for the other circus members as well. 

“How did they know we were here?” Anne asked from where she sat among what looked like a field of flowers in her room. She and Lettie were going through the letters addressed to them while Octavia and Cecelia struggled to clear surfaces to accommodate their friend’s tokens of admiration. Caroline helped by trying to arrange a pathway through the bouquets. 

Phillip shrugged. “Anyone who knows where I am staying knows where to find you. As for the others, I don’t know.” 

Two of the maids stopped by where he stood in the doorway with another enormous bouquet. “For Miss Wheeler. Sent by a gentleman name of George Lindsay.” 

“Oh!” Anne exclaimed, looking around. There really was no more space. 

“Please bring them to my rooms,” Phillip instructed. The two women nodded, unable to curtsy with their hands so full, and left. 

“Don’t they realize I have nowhere to put these,” Anne laughed. “They’ll put me out of my room soon.”

Phillip was both gratified and irritated by his friends’ expressions of admiration. Of course none of them would consider her suitable to marry into their lines, but as Henry had expressed, they saw other ways of accomplishing their ends.

He had thought of sending Anne flowers but now that she had been flooded with them, he needed something special and personal. The museum was an experience, but he wanted something she could keep on her person, something that would remind her of him. 

If he wanted to get her something perfect, he would have to go to the people who knew her best, which would mean approaching WD. Although her brother had never followed through on his warning to stay away from his sister, WD made it very clear that he was at best tolerant of the relationship developing between Anne and Phillip. A single misstep could upset the balance. But perhaps it would be an opportunity to make his intentions more clear. 

That is what he told himself until he ended up outside WD’s room. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket before he knocked. There was not an immediate answer. Phillip waited and was just about to knock again when WD opened the door a crack. 

He was dressed in rumpled shirtsleeves. 

“Mr. Carlyle!” he exclaimed. “I was--er--just resting up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

Phillip nodded, working to get his request out. “I wanted to get something special for Anne. Something she might want.”

WD’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need anything. We don’t need any favors.” 

“It’s not a favor,” Phillip told him. “It’s something I want. For her.” 

The taller man scowled but it looked like he was actually considering the request. At last he said, “The only thing she’s shown an interest in here besides that horse boy is a dress. Can’t recall the shop name but the dress is blue. Has a butterfly on the front of it. That’s all I know.” 

Phillip accepted the jab graciously. At least he had gotten what he needed. And he knew the dress! He thanked WD who remained only as polite as the situation demanded of him. The door closed firmly before Phillip had even retreated. The lock clicked into place. 

Fortunately, Charity had a list of everyone’s measurements in case any of the trunks had been lost or the costumes damaged during the journey. It was easy work to get them from her with no questions. 

That afternoon he went to the shop where Caroline had paused on their way to the theater and placed an order for the dress in the window. The seamstress told him it would take a week to deliver what he wanted. For a handsome sum and with some pleading he was able to convince her to have it ready in three days--in time for George’s party. He could hardly contain his excitement as he emerged from the shop into the unusually bright day. 

Phillip took in a deep breath to steady himself. He wanted it to be the night he could give Anne the dress right then so that he could watch her open it, watch her look of consternation melt into reluctant delight and then unbridled joy. But he also wanted time to slow down so that he could savor every unburdened moment that he had with her, every gesture in which she opened up to him. 

She had chosen him. Whatever they had yet to overcome, Anne had chosen him. Phillip’s spirit soared.


	12. Don't fight it, it's coming for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you have commented to ask whether I am continuing this fic. The answer is an emphatic YES!!! I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I've been traveling and taking care of some personal things that unfortunately have to take priority over my writing for the time being. As a show of my dedication, I've stayed up all night to finally post this chapter for you :) I have The Greatest Showman playing on mute to keep me company and inspire me. 
> 
> It means so much to me that this story means so much to you. Thank you for reading, commenting, and dropping kudos. Also thank you for the music recommendations. Y'all are the best. 
> 
> xoxo

A note arrived from George letting Phillip know that he and Pablo Fanque would be attending the final performance. His friend finished the correspondence: I received quite an impressive and delightful note of gratitude from your trapeze artist. I am eager to make her acquaintance.

Phillip crumpled the paper and hurled it into the fire in the sitting room of his suite. He would have to warn Anne to be careful. In his younger days when he had first met George and Henry at Oxford, they had all been flirts. While he and George merely enjoyed the pursuit, Henry had occasionally gone beyond. He was always smart enough to avoid the wealthy ingenues lest his debauchery creep back to stain his reputation. But with Anne he would see someone unprotected by name, family, or wealth. However, she was not without friends, and Phillip would be sure that Henry knew that.

Despite his trepidation about Anne’s introduction to his circle, nothing could dampen Phillip’s elation at the arrival of the dress that he had ordered for her. The shopkeeper delivered the package herself and proudly showed off the work her seamstresses’ had accomplished in such little time for his approval. Every detail had been attended to with the closest of care. His heart pounded fitfully as the silk flowed over his fingers, and he imagined Anne elegantly draped in its folds.

A great deal of restraint was required to keep the dress a secret until the morning of the soiree. He dearly wanted to give it to Anne right then. One more day, he told himself, and put it away.

That night, the final night of the show, the crowd outside the theater was so dense that Phillip had to enter through a side door. Inside was just as chaotic as people vied for the best views in the sold out space. From the looks of it, the theater was past capacity. Hawkers struggled through the press of bodies to sell their bags of peanuts.

By now Anne was a sensation. Among the audience, Phillip spotted women and children wearing pink wigs. Many also sported the fake beards that Barnum sold. On his way up to the box where he sat each night, he caught sight of Helen Barnum wearing both in an amusing combination.

George pulled him into an eager embrace when he saw him. “Pip! We’d begun to fear never seeing you again. Here, let me introduce you to Mr. Fanque.”

The introduction was made, and Phillip eagerly shook the hand of one England’s greatest equestrian performers. Fanque seemed taken aback by his delight and could only muster a bemused smile as he expressed his gratitude for the invitation.

Phillip offered the men their seats and sat with them. Despite his age, Pablo Fanque’s hair was only sprinkled with gray and showed hardly any signs of thinning. Keen eyes countered the stern set of his face. He had the look of one who had once been powerfully built but had shrunken with age. His suit hung large on him, and although his clothes were neat and made of the highest quality material they looked well worn. On occasion he broke off from speaking to cough shudderingly into his handkerchief. Each time he apologized.

“I am excited to see what America’s circus has to offer,” he said after one such episode.

America’s circus. That was a phrase Barnum would gleefully adopt if he had overheard.

“And I look forward to hearing your thoughts,” Phillip said genuinely. “We are very proud of what we have created but a connoisseur’s perspective is always appreciated.”

Fanque beamed and bowed from his seat. “You humble me, Mr. Carlyle.”

“And you honor us with your presence.”

As the night’s show proceeded, Phillip could not help stealing looks at Fanque who seemed well entertained by what he saw. He glanced over at the circus proprietor again when Anne rose through the light in her hoop. The older man's expression went from interest to delight to thoughtfulness while she performed. Phillip wondered what was going through his mind. At least he looked impressed. What was on George’s mind was clear. Phillip nearly had to tap him to instruct him to close his mouth. Fortunately, the man got ahold of himself.

Until the last few days, Phillip had not considered that he was not the only one whom Anne could entrance with her ethereal grace. As he watched the breathless spectators take her in, it dawned on him how different the Anne he had come to know was from the woman who soared above them now. This woman that dazzled was completely free and boundless, in command of her own fate. Out of the air, she was burdened by the color of her skin, seeming to be in a constant tug of war between what she saw of herself and what the world saw of her. The injustice of her circumstances rankled him.

His thoughts as he dwelled on her took such a frustrating turn that he found himself distracted for much of the rest of the show. However, nothing stirring his mind could withstand the power of the applause that night when the show ended. Those not already on their feet jumped to them. The standing ovation went on and on, the noise of clapping, cheering, and stomping making it sound like a thunderstorm had broken out inside. Phillip rose with the rest of the crowd and forced his mind into the present so that he could take in with awe and no little pleasure the audience’s rousing appreciation. Watching the troupe take their final London bows amid such enthusiasm filled him with pride.

Fanque turned to him when the noise settled down to a dull roar as the audience poured out of the theater. “I am an old man, and I no longer have anything to offer her,” he wheezed, “but once upon a time I would have made your trapeze artist the gem of my show.” He coughed convulsively. “Every act of yours and Mr. Barnum’s is like a course in the most delightful of meals.”

“Thank you,” Phillip replied. “You will embarrass Miss Wheeler with your praise and delight Mr. Barnum.”

“It’s splendid,” George said. “I was not expecting…”

Phillip grinned. “You always underestimate us Americans.”

“Ruffians, the lot of you,” his friend scoffed.

Shortly after, they parted ways with his guests expressing their eagerness to meet the trapeze artists at the soiree.

Instead of accepting his friends’ society invitations for the evening, Phillip joined everyone at a nearby pub where they celebrated their successful London run. He was toasted again, many times, but the best part was when Anne allowed him to sweep her into one of the dances.

“You dance!” she called over the noise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, amused and only slightly affronted. They had all seen him rehearsing with Barnum over the weeks leading up to their departure from New York. He was entirely capable.

“You’re not as stiff as we thought you would be.” Her eyes were laughing, turned into sparkling half moons by her wide smile and round cheeks. As overheated and sweaty as he was, he did not want the moment when he would have to let her go to come. He enjoyed too much the feel of the delicate curve of her back under his hand, her long fingers folded against his, the weight of her hand on his shoulder.

He let her have her laugh at his expense.

His exhilaration was tempered later when he watched Moe bend to whisper in Anne’s ear and then pull her into one of the slower dances. Phillip turned away, fighting down the terrible feelings clawing inside of him that demanded he intervene. In a few hours, Moe would be gone and hopefully soon forgotten.

Once upon a time not so long ago, winning women over had been nothing but a game to him, a pastime in a repetitive, predictable world enamored with its own importance. There were a few women who understood and enjoyed a casual flirt. But the ones who became jealous quickly bored and annoyed him. He was responsible for several bitter partings. If only they could see him now.

He had, as his mother often warned, reaped what he sowed. Or more accurately, as Penny would point out if she were here, gotten his comeuppance. He had indulged his cynicism at the expense of those women. And now he was on the same edge that he had stranded them on, struggling not to fall too hard for a woman who drifted in and out of his reach.    

Frustrated by the self-pitying direction of his thoughts, he sought out Lettie. She sat at a table in a crowded corner of the pub going pint for pint with Thomas. The Lord of Leeds’s cheeks had turned ruddy with drink but he was being cheered on by a good portion of the spectators that had gathered around them. The strangers had placed their bets on the large man who seemed to have boundless capacity for the drinks he downed. Anyone who knew Lettie had probably put their money on her.

Deng shimmied her way through a cluster of men to slam down a pint in front of each of the competitors. “Round five!” she yelled, throwing her arms up in the air to a bevy of cheers. Her own face was bright red. Tendrils of hair escaped her bun, which had slipped down to the nape of her neck.

Lettie slowly drained her fourth drink. “Give up yet?” she asked a swaying Tom when she was done. He only managed to shake his head. Calls of encouragement burst from among the spectators who leaned forward to watch more closely what might be the deciding pint.

The fifth round began. Tom’s corner urged him on but just over halfway through he gave up. His forfeiture did not stop Lettie. She finished her drink and then turned it upside down and held it over the table to prove that the tankard had been emptied. Hurrahs from members of the circus confirmed that they had indeed placed their money on her. Bets were settled. WD looked particularly satisfied as he collected.

The crowd thinned when the promise of amusement moved elsewhere. Lettie patted Tom’s arm and bent to whisper something in his ear. He gave her a tipsy grin and waved her off.

Phillip waved her over, and Lettie turned from her path to the bar. “My mother believed in temperance,” she snorted when she arrived at his side. “Fat lot of good it did her when it came to me. Never thought sitting alone in a tavern for so many years would do well for me in any way but seems I’ll have the last laugh.” She tossed her head. “I’m meeting the Queen of England with a bit of spare change.”

Barnum had told him that Lettie balked before some of her first performances, terrified of the crowd’s ridicule. Before that she had worked as a laundress safely hidden away behind bed linens. Phillip found that hard to believe of the woman who stood beside him now.

“And I’m sure it won’t be your last laugh,” he assured her.

“It’s a great one if it is,” Lettie said with a shrug. “So what’s this party I hear of tomorrow evening?”

Phillip winced. He had been hoping to sneak Anne and WD off with no one being much the wiser. Rather foolish of him to believe he could he realized now.

“It’s a surprise I’ve arranged for Anne,” he said by way of apology. He explained the offer he had made to introduce her to Fanque, how George had helped him contact the circus proprietor, even the dress he had bought her for the occasion. “She doesn’t know yet that I succeeded in finding him,” he finished.

Lettie sank down onto one of the benches. She patted the seat beside her before she leaned back against the table, her elbows propped up on it. Phillip sat.

“You’re smart, Carlyle, so I expect you’ve figured out by now that Anne is too straight to consider anything other than an honorable union. If you ask me, that’s what she sees in Moe. Don’t frown at me. Man had a whole ring of ladies at his beck, and he stayed after her. He had to see some hope. And with a brother like WD, any man would think twice before messing Anne around.”

“I know,” she said when he opened his mouth to protest, “she’s said she chose you. But you’re chasing after her like you would one of those ladies who couldn’t step over a puddle unless you laid your coat over it. One day that might not be enough.”   

Phillip crossed his arms, trying to sort through what Lettie was getting at. Clearly she thought his efforts with Anne would fall short. “Are you saying that I don’t plan to offer Anne something honorable?” he asked at last

Lettie raised an eyebrow. “Are you? You thought joining a circus would tarnish your reputation.” She said it without accusation, merely for the fact it was.

However, she was still implying that he was a coward. “I joined anyway,” he said heatedly.

She shrugged. “It’s not me you need to convince.”

His next words were intended in jest but they came out lashing. “Perhaps Anne is right. You’ve minded our business long enough.”

Immediately, Phillip wished he could take back them back. Hurt spread over the woman’s generous features and her eyes welled up. “Lettie, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. Why had he let her get under his skin? For heaven’s sake she was at the very least five pints in.

“I’m the one who asked for your help. I shouldn’t get angry when I get it,” Phillip said contritely. He ran a hand through his hair. “Truth be told, I came to find you to forget about Moe. And Anne. I don’t want to cause a scene. With him.”

She folded her arms across her bosom. “And I’m the one who asked about the party,” she said at last. He was forgiven. At least a little. “It’s just...I wish you could invite all of us.”

The sad acceptance in her voice silenced every defense that rose to Phillip’s lips. Any explanation he could give, though true, would hurt. An invitation from him would not change that the oddities were seen as freaks meant only for entertainment. Although they sat side by side, the distance between himself and her suddenly felt overwhelmingly far.

“At least we have a family here,” Lettie said. “I didn’t have that before. None of us did. Except you and Barnum. We get to come here, meet the Queen of England. But this family is what you’ve really given us.”

There were many ways that Phillip had thought about the circus. Family was never one of them. Now looking around the low ceilinged pub at the clusters of revelers he could see it. The ease with which they spoke or laughed with or at one another, the physical closeness that set them apart from the other patrons. An unspoken bond passed among those who had come from such disparate walks of life and fused their talents into something that was greater than any one of them. Until this moment, he had thought he belonged, that he had found the place he was meant to be. He had thought himself part of their world.

But he did not share in what they had. As Lettie said, this was something he had given. It was not his. A wave of loneliness propelled him from his seat. This night had not turned out as he thought, although Phillip was not sure what he had expected. Pulling a few pounds from his pocket, he set them beside Lettie. “For the rest of everyone’s enjoyment. I am turning in for the night.”

Lettie’s narrow eyebrows shot up. “So soon?” Her eyes darted to where Anne sat with a group of women that included her friend Cecelia, Deng, Callie, and Cassie. They were laughing uproariously over something.

“I have things I have to attend to,” he lied. “Unless you want to tell me about this Richard,” he added with a wink.

“It’s nothing,” Lettie replied cagily. “Just gossip. Apparently WD is a gossip. I’ll have to have some words with him.”

“I want to be one of the first to know once it’s no longer just gossip.”

“Who says it will be?” she smirked.

“My dear Miss Lutz, you are far too enticing for these rumors to remain idle nonsense, if Mr. Richard has any sense,” Phillip told her. “And I don’t think you would waste your time on anyone without a decent head on his shoulders.”

He was rewarded with one of her rare blushes. “I listen to you and your mooning,” Lettie muttered.

“For which you have my undying gratitude.” Phillip swept his arm out and bowed, drawing a guffaw from her.

“Get on home,” she laughed.

Phillip did as he was told. It was for the best anyway. When he left, Moe was pulling up a stool beside Anne’s.

The next morning he asked one of the maids to return the dress to the box that it had been delivered in. After breakfast when most dispersed to enjoy their first opportunity to take in the sites of London, Phillip summoned Anne to his sitting room. George’s gift of flowers still stood on one of the side tables. Someone pruned the blooms each day so that the bouquet still looked fresh.

A timid knock announced Anne’s arrival. He sprang across the room and flung open the door so quickly that he startled her.

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly in response to her wide-eyed stare. “Come in.”

She wore a blue so soft the color appeared white when she stepped through the light that spilled in from one of the windows. A navy ribbon was woven through her curls to keep them in place.

Anne stood quietly taking in the rich furnishings in the relative grandeur of his suite. The decor was far from the finest, but it was nicer than what was available in the rest of the hotel. Except perhaps the rooms the Barnums occupied. Suddenly seeing the room through her eyes, he felt embarrassed by its excess. A funny sensation since only a few days before he had considered it too mean to host any of his friends.

Setting those thoughts aside, he cleared his throat. “That’s for you.” He pointed to the box that the maid had set out on the settee.

Anne gave him a quizzical look. He shook his head, refusing to say anything further until she had opened her surprise. Phillip watched from the doorway, hardly able to contain his glee, as she went to the settee. She hesitated and then lifted the lid from the box.

At first she did not react. Anne stared at the dress for so long that Phillip began to worry that it was not in fact what she had wanted. “Do you not like it?” he probed.

She carefully replaced the top. Her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “I like it. Very much so. But Phillip, I can’t accept this.”

“It’s a gift,” he insisted as if she did not understand.

“One of the most wonderful and thoughtful ones I have ever received,” she acknowledged, her eyes not quite able to meet his. “But I cannot accept it.”

“Why not?”

A kaleidoscope of emotions played across Anne’s face while she wrung her hands. Fear, embarrassment, consternation. For a moment she looked as if she would bolt. Hurt by her rejection of his gift yet afraid that he had offended her, Phillip hurried across the room and yanked up the box. An urge to hurl it out one of the windows came over him. Everything was going so wrong. He stomped toward the sleeping chamber to hide the dress and his disappointment.

“Phillip, come back,” Anne said gently. Her tone halted his march. Never had there been such intimacy in the way that she spoke to him. No longer was it the two of them just in the room. They were the only ones in the world. Beyond the window everything faded into the sunlight’s warmth.

When she had his attention, she went on. “These last few weeks since we left home we’ve been living a wonderful dream. Within the circus we can be to one another whatever we want. But what we have had here won’t be the same when we go back.” Anne squared her shoulders and stared at him steadily. “And when things change, I don’t want to be your mistress.”

Phillip nearly dropped the box. His face burned while Anne went white around the lips with embarrassment.

“Of course not,” he blurted. “I never considered that.” He was finally catching up. To her the dress had been a tacit invitation to advance whatever was between them instead of the token of his regard that he had meant it to be.

“Then what else can there be for us?”

He knew what he wanted to say. The thought and desire had been building within him for a long time. Phillip set the box down on the couch and moved closer to Anne, searching her face to determine whether she wanted the truth. Time and again they had come so close to this moment, and he had sensed that the words would scare her away.

Anne stood rigidly as if bracing herself for what would come next. Maybe she did not want to hear it, but they could no longer dance around their future.

“What if I wanted to marry you?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and leaned forward to brace herself on the arm of the settee. Phillip dared not come any closer lest he cause her to flee.

“And what if you couldn’t?” Anne asked.

“I would still want you. You’re the only one I would be with Anne. I thought you believed me when I said I would follow you wherever you went.”

Distraught eyes met his. “I do believe you.”

At last, she was the one to close the distance between them. Phillip held himself still as he would before an easily frightened animal. Only his eyes moved as he tracked the movement of her arm coming up to reach for him. The back of her hand brushed over his cheek. Her lips wavered. “But what could there be for us?”

“Adventures filled with meaningful conversations, evenings by the fire with books, crusades against streetcar lines even,” he promised. He earned a smile at the last suggestion. “Whatever your mind and heart imagine and wish.”

They were so close that he noticed their breaths matched. Wondering if her heart was racing as quickly as his, his gaze fell to the pulse point in her neck. A mistake. His mind wandered dangerously, and he had to struggle to follow her next words.

“It’s a wonderful dream, Phillip. But I’m not afraid for myself. I have nothing to lose.” Her lips faltered. “You have everything. And everything to lose. It’s not so easy as you think.”

He took her chin in his fingers. “What do you want then?”

Light shifted the color of her eyes through several shades as if reflecting the war of emotions going on within her. “I don’t want to make you choose. So maybe we can enjoy this dream that we’ve been living while it lasts.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll have had this.”

Taking in the stubborn set of her chin and her narrowed eyes, he could see that her mind was made up. Arguing that he would do whatever necessary to keep her in his life would be futile. She might even decide to walk away right then. He had fallen in love with her noble mindedness, but it was the very thing that could tear her from him.

“Then may I ask one thing?” he said, letting his hand fall away from her. “Will you wear the dress tonight? If this is all we have, I want to make the most of it.”

To his surprise, Anne threw her head back and laughed. “I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

Phillip grinned. “I hope not.”

Reluctantly, she accepted the dress, although this time she could not conceal her delight when she opened the box. He repeated several of the details that the seamstress had pointed out to him leading Anne to tease him about his sewing expertise. One question he refused to answer was how he had known what she wanted. 

Before she left his sitting room, Phillip warned her about George and Henry’s possible intentions. “Don’t let them get you alone. If they suggest a walk or a part of the house they would like to show you, no matter how quick they promise it will be or who they promise will join, invite one of our own party along.”

“I don't want to be left alone,” Anne admitted. “I’ve never been to anything like this before. I don’t know how to act.”

Phillip smiled reassuringly. “If you’re really worried, Charity might be able to help. But you’ll be just fine. Remember everyone is looking forward to meeting _you_.”

“That seems ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.

“Far from it,” he disagreed emphatically. Phillip thought he saw a hint of rose in Anne’s cheeks when she turned to leave.

That evening, Charity fussed over Phillip’s attire. She straightened his bow tie and smoothed down the lapels of his tuxedo. Resplendent in a lilac gown with gold appliqué, she wore her gold corn silk hair plaited and wound atop her head.

“Stop fidgeting,” she scolded through her laughter. “You look as if you dressed in the dark.” They stood in the Barnum’s sitting room waiting for her husband to finish getting ready. Caroline and Helen knelt in a corner playing with a pair of elegantly dressed porcelain dolls their parents had bought for them.

Her gentle, firm fingers straightened his collar. “There is no need to be nervous, you know. She’ll be fine.” Charity smiled knowingly at him as she brushed the shoulders of his tuxedo.

She had to know what people said about her husband and her family behind her back. Friends that Charity grew up with and went to school with no longer spoke to her. Josephine had told him about the other girls at the ballet school making fun of Caroline until she quit. The wealthy could be cruelly unforgiving and unrelenting.

Seeing that he remained unconvinced, she sighed. “Everyone we’ve met has adored and admired her. And at the very worst, she has us and WD. Your uncertainty will only diminish her confidence.”

“Right,” he agreed, straining to pull himself together. Anne would take all her cues from him. He needed to reassure her not set her on edge.

Barnum burst ceremoniously through the sitting room doors. “How do I look?” he crowed. He was fashionably dressed in tails for the evening. 

“Splendid!” Charity complimented.

"Very good, PT," Phillip added.

Caroline and Helen looked up from playing. “Very handsome Daddy,” Caroline told him.

“Boring,” Helen disagreed. “Why do all of your clothes look the same? You should get some like Mama’s. _She_ looks pretty.”

Barnum chuckled while his wife hid a laugh behind her hand leaving Caroline to point out that men were supposed to dress the way their father did. Helen shrugged. “It’s still boring.”

“Be kind darling,” Charity admonished when she had collected herself. “And be good while we are away.”

Phillip headed downstairs to meet Anne and WD while the Barnums said goodbye to their children. However, only WD wearing a russet frock coat with a caramel vest and matching cravat waited in the lobby. His tall boots were polished to perfection.

“Evening Mr. Carlyle,” he said with a respectful nod of his head. “Not sure where my sister’s at. She said she’d be down shortly awhile ago.”

“Let’s hope that’s soon then,” Phillip replied, offering WD a smile. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us tonight.”

“We’re honored by the invitation,” the taller man replied. An awkward silence settled between them while they waited. They had exchanged few words since their first encounter many months before when Phillip joined Barnum’s circus. WD no longer seemed likely to carry out his initial threat to forget his place if Phillip went near his sister, but whether he had entirely come around to the idea of her being involved with him was yet to be determined.

“How are you enjoying London?” Phillip ventured.

WD flashd one of his bright smiles. “It’s been brilliant. Man at a pub taught me that and a few other words I best not share in polite company. Still learning to understand people though. Hard to believe they speak English too.”

They say the same of us. Although they don’t usually mean it in a complimentary way.” 

“So I’ve learned,” WD agreed. “I don’t mind though.”

Barnum and Charity soon joined them with no sign of Anne. Her brother apologized for her tardiness and was offering to go fetch her when there was a commotion on the stairs. Lettie and Octavia descended practically carrying Anne between them with Cecelia urging her on from behind.

Phillip took an unwitting step forward. None of his anticipation had fully prepared him for the sight of Anne in the dress. The fitted bodice and cuffed sleeves perfectly accentuated her svelte figure. A narrow, purple sash defined her waist and like a waterfall the midnight blue skirt flowed outward from the ribbon to pool at her feet. Her usually untamed hair had been smoothed, swept back, and pinned in twists. The style sharpened the planes of her cheeks and highlighted her striking eyes.

Altogether the effect was breathtaking. Behind him, Barnum let out a low hum of appreciation and Charity gasped.

Briefly Anne glanced toward her brother before taking the hand that Phillip held out to her.

“She got a little shy,” Lettie explained.

Anne quirked her lips. “Don’t tell tales,” she murmured so that only her entourage and Phillip could hear. “You wanted to see his reaction.” 

“Artists like to see their work appreciated,” Octavia smirked. “He made it worth the trip.”

Their banter ended abruptly when WD stepped up beside Phillip. “Annie, how’d you get that dress?” His voice was deep with suspicion. He looked her over as if deciding how heavily he would lean on his authority to find out.

Anne lifted her eyebrows like he had asked a remarkably obvious question. “How do you think? I sold all the flowers in my room.”

The women who had the misfortune of living among her tokens of admiration laughed, and Cecelia wisely handed off the cloak she had carried down to WD. “Here stop gawping before you make everyone late.”

Phillip stepped aside so that WD could help his sister into her outerwear. A carriage was summoned and at last they departed for George’s townhouse. Fortunately the question of how Anne had come by her new attire was left alone in favor of inquiries about the other guests in attendance that evening. While he and Charity had spent much of their lives in these circles, the territory was uncharted for Barnum and the Wheelers.

In the late evening lull the horses were able to clip along at a decent pace so that they arrived at Grosvenor Square in good time. A line of carriages had already formed. Phillip recognized the livery of several and pointed them out to the others.

Inside the townhouse, servants hurried forward to take their outer things before they were shown to the drawing rooms on the second floor. Phillip had hoped to offer Anne his arm, but at the sight of the elaborate chandelier overhead and sweeping staircase she had attached herself firmly to her brother’s side. He overheard her whisper to him that at least they were wearing clothes this time.

Their entrance made quite a stir. How could one not when followed by a pair as magnificent as Anne and WD? Even Phillip was overwhelmed for a moment when he glanced back at them. Somewhere between the foyer and drawing room, the siblings had shed or concealed their intimidation. They towered in the archway, regal with their impassive expressions and linked hands. Most of the men present wore tailcoats, and yet WD managed to make them look underdressed by comparison. Next to Anne’s, the other women’s gowns and jewels appeared uninspired.

Phillip could see the gears whirring in Barnum’s head, and he wondered if the man would be audacious enough to claim that his trapeze artists were an exiled king and queen from the African continent. After all, he had turned the Russian immigrant Vasily into an Irish Giant and a corpulent rag peddler’s son into the Lord of Leeds. Hopefully, the ringmaster realized that the brother and sister were too proud to have their story so manipulated.

Coming over from a group of young men, George observed with appreciation, “Pip, my friend, you have always had an actor’s flair for the dramatic, but I daresay you’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Merely practice for the Queen,” he joked before providing introductions for his companions. His university classmate welcomed each of them graciously. Spotting Pablo Fanque, Phillip urged George to introduce Barnum and Charity around the room. “There’s someone I would like Anne and WD to meet.”

Seeing the direction of his friend’s attention, George agreed. “And don’t forget to give me the credit I’m due,” he warned before leading the Barnums off.

“Come.” Phillip gestured for the siblings to follow him. He led them over to the chair that the circus proprietor occupied near the fire. The man’s face lit up when he realized they were approaching him. Leaning heavily on a silver headed cane, Fanque pulled himself to his feet.

With a grin, Phillip presented Anne and WD to him. Anne gasped. “Phillip told me about you!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t dare believe you were real.”

Fanque ducked his head. “I feel all too real, my dear.” He shook the hand that WD eagerly extended. “But your performance made me remember fondly my younger days.” His chuckle turned to a racking cough, and WD helped ease him back into his chair.

“Thank you,” he wheezed when he regained his breath.

“You saw us perform?” Anne exclaimed. “When?”

“Last night. I wish I had gone sooner so I could have seen you again before the show closed. Told Mr. Carlyle here that were I any younger, I’d be inviting the two of you to join my troupe.”

“You oblige us, Mr. Fanque,” WD told him, hand over his heart. Anne nodded.

“How long have you been training?” the proprietor wanted to know. Anne told him how they had been left on the bed of traveling circus and trained under a woman named Tirza.

Phillip’s presence was soon forgotten as the siblings told their story to the aging rider. He felt like an interloper when they began to reveal things about their past that he was sure they had told few others. There was no need to excuse himself when he left. He had been forgotten.

Feeling left out and slightly envious of the connection that Fanque had forged so quickly with Anne and her brother, Phillip joined the Barnums. George had adroitly introduced them to company who came from families that had made their wealth in trade.

Many of the guests had attended an evening or two of the circus and offered their congratulations to the partners. They also wanted to know when Phillip planned to return to London and playwriting and what he was working on at the moment. All questions that he himself did not know the answers to. He had done nothing but scribble down notes here and there since his last play closed in New York, and it had been a long time since he felt a desire to write. The circus had come to occupy most of his time and energy.

To his credit, George had assembled an engaging group for the evening. In addition to the representatives of Barnum’s circus, his guests included a young explorer, several writers, an artist, and an architect. Among the ladies were several accomplished pianists and a harpist who found ready appreciation at the piano in the drawing room across the hall. A rumor that the Swedish Nightingale Jenny Lind was in London discouraged anyone from singing. No one wanted her performance to be compared to that of the woman whose vocals had been described by the papers as “nothing short of seraphim splendor” and “the most perfect voice in the world.”

A table filled with petite sandwiches and desserts, pastries, and refreshments had been set up on one end of the drawing room. Seasonal flowers and fruits were arranged to make the offerings look abundant. Phillip helped himself to a tart.

“Phillip? Is that you? How delightful to see you in the city again.” Irony in the speaker’s voice suggested that she knew precisely who he was and was not all that surprised to see him.

He turned to find Aurora Dunning behind him. She was as breathtaking as she was the last time he had seen her nearly three years before. Her thick raven tresses were pulled back to emphasize her high forehead. Large blue eyes widened in practiced innocence. Considered one of the most fashionable women in London society, she wore a light blue Eastern inspired gown intricately embroidered with clouds, mountains, flowers, and rivers. Long, wide sleeves turned back to reveal an orange lining. A gold cord belt knotted at her waist and hung down the front of the dress.

Phillip eyed her warily. The petite woman had been one of his most frequent companions during his London days. She had pursued him for a time before finding him to too tame for her liking. If her eyes were any indication, her interest had been rekindled.

“I’m only visiting,” he told her.

“With a circus. I saw. Imagine my surprise at hearing that the great playwright P. Carlyle had joined such an endeavor,” she smirked. “What did your parents say?”

“Nothing kind,” he acknowledged.

Amusement suffused her features. Orphaned as a young child and raised by a doting but absent-minded bachelor uncle, Aurora’s childhood had been as unruly and unguided as her adulthood. His obligation to his parents had always frustrated her. “Perhaps you’re not a lost cause after all,” she mused.

Aurora asked after his time since they had last seen one another. He told her about the poor reception of his last play and how Barnum had convinced him to join the circus as his junior partner.

Whatever he had accomplished since paled in comparison to Aurora’s exploits. Bored of her life in London, she had convinced her uncle to let her accompany him on the Duke of Edinburgh’s diplomatic mission to Japan. Both had been ideal for the contingent because of their extensive knowledge of languages. An eccentric recluse and philologist, her uncle had written several books contributing to the growing theory that languages shared common roots. Aurora had grown up flowing fluidly between ancient and modern tongues since her guardian spoke English only when necessary. Even his servants had learned to answer basic commands in a myriad of languages. When he could not be bothered to translate, his niece kept the peace by doing so on his behalf. She derived endless amusement from his frustration when she slightly altered his original instructions. 

Together uncle and niece had sailed from Japan to China and then south to Australia and New Zealand to satisfy their curiosity about the most recent additions to the empire.

“My uncle can no longer travel so rigorously,” she concluded after relating tales of tea ceremonies, garden parties, a Great Wall, and forests of trees so wide it took more than seven men to circle them. “But I have been corresponding with a woman named Isabella Bird whose travel journal on America I came across a few years ago. She plans to sail to the East next year. I hope to join her. London is hopelessly dull.”

Phillip tried to imagine the small, impeccably dressed woman before him trudging over mountains and through tropical forests. It was not as hard as he first thought. He had seen Aurora in disarray enough to picture her hair plaited, face surrounded by flyaways, and the alluring self-satisfied set of her lips.  

“Ahh a reunion at last. Our errant friend has returned.” Henry had arrived. More than a few heads were still turned in his wake. Tall and rakishly handsome in a dark green, velvet tailcoat, he wore his black hair combed back from its slight widow’s peak and a little longer than fashion dictated. He could get away with it because the length highlighted his perfectly tapered jaw.  

Phillip forced himself to match his friend’s enthusiastic greeting. Hoping to keep Henry’s attention on their little circle, he returned to the subject of Aurora’s travels past and future. For a time this plan was successful. For all their wildness, or perhaps because of it, Henry and Aurora were adept conversationalists. In spite of himself, he was soon laughing at their story of a butler who had been eager to be free of his cantankerous employer only to discover after her death that she had, without his knowledge, employed him in the service of her even crankier dogs.

“He had to go to court to break the contract,” chortled Henry. “The judge insisted on calling the poor man’s employer to the stand not realizing he was summoning a dog. He kept demanding of the barrister when Mr. Audley would arrive to which the man kept replying that he was present.”

“And finally, the butler picked up the pug and yelled, ‘This! This is Mr. Audley!’” Aurora pantomimed the hapless servant holding up his four legged employer for the judge to see. Phillip clutched his side. “Well that gave the judge quite a shock,” she finished dropping her arms. “Unfortunately, I think Mr. Audley still won.”   

A familiar chuckle immediately deflated his mirth. Anne had arrived at his side unnoticed while he was caught up in his friends’ story. She stood shyly outside their circle and became embarrassed when Aurora and Henry’s attention turned to her. The other woman boldly looked her over, apparently feeling no need to conceal her curiosity.

Meanwhile, Henry’s mouth slid into one of his most charming smiles when he saw who had joined them. “Pip, we haven’t been introduced,” he said gleefully.

Phillip shifted closer to Anne’s side. A twitch in the corner of Aurora’s mouth suggested that she noticed. Few details escaped her sharp attention. “Mr. Stanhope this is Miss Wheeler, the trapeze artist whose performance you so admired. Miss Wheeler it is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Stanhope and Miss Dunning.”

Anne graciously acknowledged both introductions. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she apologized. “You were so animated and Mr. Carlyle is usually so serious that my interest was piqued.”

“We have tried to cure him of it with little success,” Henry intoned tragically. “But tell us, Miss Wheeler, how did you learn to soar with the grace of a swan? Your performance the other night was breathtaking.”

“You’re too generous, Mr. Stanhope,” Anne demurred. “Anyone who has spent as much time in the air as I have would look the same.”

“And how long would that be?” Aurora interjected.

“Since I can remember.”

Aurora pressed on. “Then your parents were in the circus too?”

Phillip shot her a warning look. The aim of her questioning was unclear but its effect on Anne was not. Her back had gone rigid and her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “No, they weren’t,” she said with polite finality.

“Aurora, there’s no need to interrogate one of George’s guests of honor,” Henry admonished lightly. “Unless we should discover that she was hatched from a giant egg, in which case, please do regale us with the tale of such a mythological birth Miss Wheeler.” He turned to Anne with an affected air of expectation as if this would indeed be the truth of her origin.

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “I feel as if I will disappoint you to admit that I did not hatch into the world.”

Henry pulled a long face. “It is my own fault for getting my hopes up.” Having eased the encounter, he proceeded to inquire after her time in London. Anne told him about their visit to the British Museum.

Phillip was grudgingly grateful for his friend’s smooth redirection and wondered at Aurora’s blatant rudeness. When he looked at her again, she was staring hard at his companion. Her eyes flicked to him. Realizing she had his attention, Aurora turned the full force of her cold, furious glare on him.

A feeling of dread trickled down his spine. This night was possibly about to take a turn for the worst and not in any way that he had anticipated. Phillip had half a mind to grab Anne and run right then.


	13. The stars we steal from the nightsky will never be enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! Here you go lovelies.

Anne silently cursed her stupidity and Phillip’s. Hers for leaving the protection of the circle of the host, her brother, and Mr. Fanque and his for gaping at Miss Dunning right then. It looked as if she was going to have to take matters into her own hands to graciously excuse herself before the situation escalated.

Speaking to Mr. Stanhope but raising her voice just enough so that it could carry to everyone else, Anne said, “I apologize for my intrusion. Mr. Carlyle asked that I not leave a room without his permission, and I wanted to listen to the musicians.” She turned to Phillip. Hopefully the others would overlook the shock on his face. “Mr. Carlyle, may I go across the way to the other drawing room?”

Anne prayed that he had sense enough to catch on and not reveal her lie. He cleared his throat. “Yes, you may.”

She thanked them and told his companions that it had been her honor to make their acquaintance. Mr. Stanhope looked between her and Phillip with interest. Anne turned and hurried away pretending not to see. Praying that WD was too engrossed in his exchange with Mr. Fanque to notice her absence or come looking for her, she crossed to the other side of the hall.

The second drawing room was much larger than the first. Floor to ceiling windows covered the east and west walls except for a space on the east one behind the grand piano where there was a mirror as tall as the windows. The mirror was framed with wrought gold vines and flowers and reflected the pianist and her audience like a moving portrait. Men and women elegantly filled the many clusters of richly upholstered chairs and couches. Anne felt small and alone and wished to be anywhere but the party.

Afraid of drawing attention to herself and unsure where to go, Anne moved to the side of the archway closest to the piano. She turned toward the music and fixed a benevolent smile of pleasure on her face so that anyone who glanced her way would assume she was absorbed in the performance.

Meanwhile she let her mind drift back to Moe’s warning the night before. Holding her so close that Anne looked over her shoulder to see whether Phillip was looking, he had told her how careless men as wealthy and powerful as Phillip Carlyle were, how little they thought about the consequences of their desires and actions. His lips against her ear, he asked her whether she realized that she was in love with a man whose allegiances were in conflict with her very being. He is not a fool, Anne defended Phillip heatedly, pushing Moe away.

The handsome Indian had looked down at her with sorrow rather than anger. Then his mouth twisted in resignation. He had lifted her hand, which he still held, to his lips and kissed it. “Forgive me. I believe your heart too precious to break. Will you still allow me to write you?” She had not been able to suppress the shiver that undulated down her back at the huskiness in his voice and could only nod. He had looked pleased. “Then it seems our paths are meant to part here. I hope that America will come to appreciate you as London has.” He kissed her hand one more time and was gone before she could muster a reply. 

Absently, Anne rubbed the back of her hand. Without Mr. Stanhope’s intervention, Miss Dunning would have made it very clear how she felt about Anne’s presence beside Phillip and perhaps even at the soiree altogether. With any luck, showing the woman that she knew her place by asking Phillip’s permission to leave the room had eased things.

A strong grip closed around her upper arm nearly making Anne cry out. It was Phillip. His face was pale and intense. “Stay in here. Go stand with Charity,” he whispered. He was gone before she could ask what was wrong.

Feeling queasy and again wishing she had never come, she sought out and joined Charity Barnum. The smaller woman had been enjoying the concert at her husband’s side. The current selection was beautiful--light, airy, and eager like the first breezes of spring. The two of them looked over. Barnum nodded before turning back to the music.

Mrs. Barnum’s expression, however, became concerned. She rose onto tiptoe and leaned in toward Anne. “Is everything okay?” she asked quietly.

Anne bit her lip. She was not sure. “Mr. Carlyle told me to join you,” she whispered back.

Perfect brows knit, Mrs. Barnum leaned around her to scan the room. No one else from their group was there. “Did he say why?”

Not wanting to disturb the Barnums’ evening, she shook her head. “Perhaps he thought I would enjoy the music,” she lied, forcing a quick smile.

Her answer did not shake the skepticism from the woman’s face, but she let the matter drop. Anne hoped that Phillip was able to manage whatever had arisen with Miss Dunning.

Time seemed to creep by while she tried to keep herself from looking toward the archway every few moments to see if he had come back for her. She wanted to return to the other room to spend more time with Mr. Fanque before he left for the evening. But of those she knew that evening, only Mr. Lindsay came. He moved among his guests, pausing here and there to speak with them. When he reached their group, his face lit up as it had when he greeted them earlier. There was not a hint in his demeanor that anything that evening was amiss.

“Mr. Barnum,” he said jovially. “You must tell me how you convinced our Pip to join a circus! I never could get him to go to one with me.” Their host had a boyish face, broad and friendly. The unruly waves of his blond hair and his slightly upturned nose gave him an impish look that made him seem always on the verge of mischief. 

P.T. Barnum out-beamed Mr. Lindsay. “He didn’t make it easy.” He put an arm around his wife. “But my father always said I could talk a cat out of its cream.”

Mrs. Barnum and Mr. Lindsay laughed. “And I suppose that’s how he won a lady as beautiful as yourself, Mrs. Barnum,” Mr. Lindsay nodded.

The woman’s cheeks went pink with pleasure. “Actually it was with a scrap of cloth and a teacup when we were children. He’s always insisted upon making people smile.” She looked up admiringly at her husband.

“And you, Miss Wheeler,” Mr. Lindsay said, turning his attention to Anne. There was a gleam in his eye that brought Phillip’s earlier caution to mind. “It seems the colonies do not recognize the treasure that you are. Pip tells me you are determined to leave us, but if you were to stay here in England, you would be our darling. You’ve certainly dazzled London.” He winked at Barnum to show that he was not seriously trying to lure her away from her employer.

Regardless, Anne did not want there to be any misunderstandings. “That’s very kind of you, but Barnum’s Circus is home. For me and my brother.”

Mr. Lindsay rocked back on his heels. “My heart aches with disappointment.”

“We perform nearly every night in New York City,” Barnum reminded him. “We would welcome you grandly.”

“That’s a hard invitation to refuse,” the young man mused. “Perhaps I’ll have to arrange it.”

He spoke with them awhile longer. It took all of her will to keep her attention on their conversation and not the archway behind him. Under other circumstances, she would have thoroughly enjoyed speaking with George Lindsay. He had a lively sense of humor with a mischievous laugh and twinkle in his eye to match his looks. Thanking him for the introduction to Pablo Fanque helped some, reminding her of the gratitude she owed him. He flirtatiously replied that he gladly would have sought out and brought fifty tigers for the opportunity to make her personal acquaintance. He thanked her gallantly for her far easier request drawing a laugh from her for the first time that evening. Eventually other guests beckoned, and he moved on.

To her relief, WD appeared shortly after, standing just inside the room. She screamed his name inside, hoping his attention would be drawn her way. When his eyes swept over her twice, she sighed in exasperation and made her way over to him. The performance was winding down, releasing the listeners’ attention. Several people stopped her to ask her about the circus and America. Anne did her best to answer as patiently and politely as she could, crossing her fingers her brother would not give up on finding her before she got to him.

“There you are,” he exclaimed as soon as an elderly man who had asked her about the post war state at home wandered off. “Have you been here the whole time?” Anne sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. She could feel a headache coming on.

WD peered into her face. Before he could ask what bothered her, she gave him the tiniest shake of her head. There would be time for questions and stories later. “Yes. I lost track of time. Is Mr. Fanque still here?”

“He sent me to ask if you will bid him farewell before he leaves. He’s not feeling well.”

Anne looped her arm through his. His side was warm and solid. And safe. Comforting as it had been when they were children. She drew closer making him frown. “I’m glad you’re here then,” she told him, meaning it with her entire being.

Phillip was no longer in the other drawing room when she returned. Nor were Miss Dunning and Mr. Stanhope. WD led her over to Mr. Fanque who was surrounded by a group admirers and well-wishers. When he was left alone with the siblings, he turned to them with an avuncular smile. “It has been refreshing and an honor to meet such bright promises for the future of the circus,” he told them in his deep, sonorous voice. “Should you ever need anything, my children, do not hesitate to write to me or my son, Tom. I wish you the very best.”

Tears pricked at Anne’s eyes during their goodbyes. The way he spoke to them--his encouragement, his patient listening-- felt like what it might be like to have a father. Although their acquaintance had been brief, a deep ache awoke within her at having to let go of that feeling so soon. It was as if she were saying farewell to her own kin when he clasped her hand in his powerful ones. He saw that her eyes were full. “Don’t cry, my darling,” he pleaded although a tear coursed down his own cheek. “The Lord gave us this time, and we must be grateful to Him for it.”

She sniffed. “I’ll treasure it. I only wish it could have been longer.”

Pablo Fanque squeezed her hand. “We often wish for more time, which is why we must make the most of what we have.”

WD helped the circus proprietor to his feet and lent his arm so that the older man could lean on him to make his way out. Anne took the seat he had vacated, grateful for a moment to herself. The day’s events had been overwhelming. To begin with, there was the dress she was wearing, an extravagant gift from Phillip. It was every inch as beautiful as she had daydreamed, and she felt like a queen in it. That he thought highly enough of her to do something so special warmed her to her core. It also frightened her. He had finally made his intentions explicit. He wanted to marry her. Or he would if he could. If she let him.

Was he willfully making himself blind to the obstacles of a union between them? Did he think that the only son of one of New York’s wealthiest families could marry a colored circus girl with harmless consequences? Did he believe that she had not figured out that his parents wanted him to have nothing to do with the circus? If they could not abide the idea of their name being affiliated with a show, they certainly would want it connected to her. She sighed heavily. This line of thinking was not helping the ache in her head.

“A penny for such weighty thoughts,” a kind voice said beside her. Startled Anne looked around in time to see Mrs. Barnum drawing a chair closer to hers. “Do you mind if I join you?” the blonde woman asked, gesturing to her burden. At the shake of Anne’s head, she settled gracefully into the seat. 

Soft-spoken and unassuming except for her beauty, Charity Hallett Barnum was the opposite of her husband in many ways. While he craved attention and accolades, she preferred to stay out of the spotlight, devoted solely to the well-being of her family. Unlike many others of her upbringing, she was unconcerned with station and the trappings of wealth and had maintained the same gentle, sweet demeanor through her transitions from her pampered childhood to pauper’s wife to riches.

Her life could not have been further from Anne’s. And yet, there was perhaps an aspect that she could understand. “You thought you were giving up all this when you married Mr. Barnum, didn’t you?” Anne mused.

Her companion smiled revealing the dimples in her cheeks. “I’m not sure that I ever considered what I was giving up,” she said thoughtfully. “Phineas had so many wonderful dreams, and I wanted to be part of them whether they came true or not.”

“So you don’t regret it?”

Mrs. Barnum folded her bottom lip under her teeth. She was quiet for some moments, staring into the waning fire at Anne’s side. The fires that had crackled invitingly at the beginning of the night had been allowed to die down. It had not turned out as cold as expected and the flow of people kept the rooms comfortably warm. At last, she looked up again. “There are things that I regret, but I have no regrets. Does that make sense?”

Anne mulled it over and shook her head. “Forgive me. It doesn’t.”

“I knew what made me happy, and I took every action that I could toward my happiness. I cannot control how others reacted, and it is their actions that I regret since they impact those I love. However, I have not given up hope that in the end my happiness and love will mean more than what came between us.”

They were talking about her parents, Anne was sure. As a child, she would have given almost anything in return for her mother. She could not imagine trading her parents for someone else. However, Cecelia had. Charity Barnum had. Anne blushed at her naïveté. Of course actual families were far more complicated than the ones an orphan dreamed up.

The older woman spread her fingers out across her lap and tilted her head to the side. “Forgive me if I pry, but I assume it is not me that we’re discussing.” Her gaze was direct but not intrusive. Anne wondered what Phillip may have told her or how much she had observed. They had not been obvious about their growing feelings for one another but nor had they been discreet. Someone as sensitive as Mrs. Barnum could have figured it out on her own. Nevertheless, her yearning for the woman’s husband’s junior partner was not something that she wanted to divulge.  

“There was a woman here tonight,” Anne replied. “I don’t think she was pleased that WD and I were guests.”  

Mrs. Barnum sighed. “Probably not,” she agreed. “I’m sorry, Anne. America may have to play catch up to some of the laws here, but I’m afraid the law cannot prevent prejudice and ignorance.”

Anne rubbed her cheek remembering her encounter with the street car driver. She knew all too well that was the case. “It’s just funny how people can forget who I am when I’m in the air.”

“Remember that people also come to the circus to forget who _they_ are. It’s a place where people lose or find themselves.” There was a rare note of melancholy in her voice, and it was Anne’s turn to wonder who this conversation was truly about.

_What a picture we must make_ , Anne thought. _Two gloomy women at a party_ . She giggled. When Mrs. Barnum looked over with a questioning arch to her brow, Anne shared the source of her amusement. Mrs. Barnum’s dimples returned, and their talk turned to lighter subjects.  

Only when WD appeared at Mrs. Barnum's side did Anne realize how long he must have been gone. She was about to tease him for changing his mind about Mr. Fanque’s offer to stay when the grim set of his mouth stilled her tongue. The way he leaned in and glanced around to make sure he would not be overheard quickened her heartbeat. He whispered something in Mrs. Barnum’s ear. She drew in a sharp breath and her hand fell to his forearm. “I’ll go,” she murmured.

Without a word of explanation to Anne, she gathered up her skirts and hurried from the room as quickly as she could weave through the guests. WD dropped into her vacated seat. He rubbed his hands over his knees, a nervous habit. He sucked in a breath before turning toward his sister. A brewing fib was written all over his face. The elder Wheeler was a terrible liar. Understanding came to her even with the missing pieces of the puzzle.

“Where’s Phillip?” she demanded, leaning forward to take his wrist in her own hand.

“Not now,” he stalled. Her brother wiped a bead of sweat from the side of his face. No one was paying attention to them. She could see that his collar was damp with perspiration. Her grip tightened until her fingernails dug into his flesh. He hissed and tried to shove her hand away. “Damn it, Anne. Not now.”   

A rare threat of anger crossed his face when she did not let up. Anyone else may have been cowed, but Anne had stood up to it before. “I will ask one more time before I cause a scene,” she gritted out. “Where is Phillip?”

Realizing there was no winning this battle, he yanked her up roughly. “Come on. And don’t draw any more attention to us.” His face relaxed into a pleasant mask although his thumb and fingers pressed painfully into her elbow. Anne winced. They would probably leave bruises.

The night was growing late, and people were beginning to depart. They were not the only ones making their way through the cavernous gallery and down the curved staircase. WD held them at the foot of the stairs until a couple behind them passed into the hall to retrieve their outer things from the servants. Certain that no one was looking in their direction for the moment, WD reached behind him. Anne heard the slightest scrape, and then he shoved her into a room and followed behind, swiftly closing the door after them. It was all over before Anne could gasp in indignation.

Phillip’s voice called out sharply. “I told you not to bring her down here.”

Distracted from her brother for the moment, Anne whirled around. They were standing on a wide step that led down into a large, dimly lit library. Books, atlases, and encyclopedias lined shelves over twice her height. The shelves covered every wall, breaking only for a panel around the fireplace and what she assumed were two windows now covered by heavy drapes.

Phillip sat on a long, dark couch in front of the fireplace, a poultice pressed to the side of his face with one hand, a cup of amber liquid in the other. His bow tie hung unfastened around his neck and the top of his shirt was unbuttoned. His jacket was gone. He was flanked on one side by Charity Barnum and on the other by his friend, Mr. Stanhope.

Anne shivered in the chill air. This room had not been meant for use that evening.

“She was going to make trouble,” WD shrugged. Phillip sighed then winced, drawing Anne forward.

“Watch the glass,” Mr. Stanhope warned. She looked down to find dozens of fragments scattered across the floor as if someone had dropped an entire platter of glassware. She hopped onto the carpet runner to her left and tiptoed around it. Winding her way carefully between scattered arm chairs, Anne reached Phillip and his caretakers.

Up close, she saw that his shirt had been torn open, the top buttons gone missing. His hair had fallen from its pomade hold. “What happened?” she asked, discovering more signs of some kind of struggle. An armchair near the fireplace remained on its side. The smell of whiskey was strong in the air, emanating from a damp stain at the edge of the carpet.

Phillip leaned back. “It’s worse than it looks,” he croaked with a grin.

“And not as bad as it would have been had I not interrupted,” Mr. Stanhope added. They looked as smug as two boys caught in a tussle.

Seeing the look on her face, Phillip asked his friend to be kind enough to inform the host of the state of his library. “I’m sure he’s wondering where we got to.”

Mr. Stanhope gave her an appraising glance. Then he was off. As soon as the door closed behind him, Anne went to Phillip’s side. “My gut tells me this has something to do with Miss Dunning,” she said ruefully. He pulled her down to sit beside him and removed the poultice. Bright pink hand and finger prints flared on his cheek and jaw, but it was nothing that would not fade in a day, possibly a few hours. Anne flinched.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “I forgot her temper.”

“She did all this?” she asked, looking around the room again.

“Only the damage,” Phillip joked. Anne looked at him sideways, and he turned serious. “I would have returned to the party once Henry got her to her carriage, but my appearance coinciding with her disappearance would have raised a few...uncomfortable questions and no little gossip.”

Mrs. Barnum patted his hand. “We should go soon anyway. I’ll collect Phineas.” She was leaving as Mr. Lindsay came through the door, closely followed by Mr. Stanhope. The host surveyed his library with an expression torn between amusement and irritation.

“She didn’t break anything irreplaceable, did she?” he asked.

Phillip reached for his pocket. “Several glasses and a decanter of whiskey. I can replace--,”

Mr. Lindsay waved him off. “It’s not your fault this time. Although that was a very fine whiskey,” he sighed. “Where is she?” Phillip tensed beside her. Anne wondered at his friend’s use of ‘this time’ but tucked it away to ask him about later when they were alone.

“We sent her home,” Mr. Stanhope told him. “I was keeping Phillip company while he cooled the blushes on his cheek.”

The shorter man’s eyebrows flew up when Phillip lifted the poultice for him to see. “Well I hope she left feeling some sense vindication,” he said slyly. 

“So do I,” grumbled Phillip.

Anne did not regret Miss Dunning’s departure, but she felt that the men were making too much light of it. The woman had attacked Phillip and made a mess of someone else’s home. She dropped her head to hide her frown.

“I’ll call on her in the morning,” Mr. Stanhope told them. “Miss Wheeler.” She looked up, surprised at being addressed. “Mr Wheeler.” WD looked startled too. “I had looked forward to meeting you tonight. I regret to have missed the opportunity. I hope our paths cross again while you’re here.”

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Stanhope,” WD replied. “My sister and I would be honored.”

“Indeed,” Anne agreed, forcing a smile.

Their coats and cloaks were brought to them, and when they were dressed, Phillip with his top hat pulled low and the collar of his coat turned up, they joined the Barnums in the hall. A carriage was summoned for them, and they expressed their appreciation to Mr. Lindsay one last time before they departed.

Anne let out a quiet sigh of relief as the carriage rolled away from the square, glad to be away at last and thankful this was the only party she had to endure. The others told Phillip about the evening he had missed and complimented him on all he had arranged for them in London. Anne closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window. The cold glass soothed her pounding head.

Back at the hotel, her roommates had waited up for her, expecting stories from the elegant soirée. She told them about the magnificent townhouse, the food, the music, the beautiful dresses. “It was all like something out of a book,” Anne finished with a yawn. “But I’m glad it was only once. I’m sure Buckingham Palace will be far more exciting.”

Satisfied, they left her alone to prepare for bed. When everyone was asleep, she finally let herself cry into her pillow. She didn’t belong in Phillip’s world. And he didn’t belong in hers. 

No one woke her when she overslept the next morning. They would not be meeting the Queen for another two days and the time until then was theirs to do with as they wished. She found her brother flirting with one of the maids who was supposed to be cleaning rooms. Rolling her eyes, Anne pulled him away down the dim, narrow corridor. “You better not get us put out,” she scolded.

“I don’t mess in your affairs,” WD protested, not making much of an effort to break free of her hold.

Anne scoffed. “I’ll save that to remind you of when you do.”

Her brother muttered something under his breath. She smiled back at him sweetly. To which he returned a scowl mixed with a pout, reminiscent of the look he used to give her when she annoyed him for the fun of it.

They reached the stairwell, which led down past Anne’s floor and three more stories to the lobby. “Where are we going?” he asked finally. 

“For a walk. I’ve heard the beautiful days here are a treat.”

With some difficulty, they found their way to Hyde Park. It stretched on for as far as they could see in either direction. Bright curricles drawn by shining horses carried men and women along the tree-lined thoroughfares of packed dirt. Pedestrian pathways wound under the trees offering shade and an occasional breeze. Stretches of grass were covered with picnickers and families enjoying the warm weather.

Anne drew in a deep breath. The park also offered relief from London’s unpleasant smells. WD bought them a pair of enticing Chelsea buns. The sweet, cinnamon flavor stuck to her tongue and the roof of her mouth so that she savored the treat long after she had swallowed the last bite.

Fresh air also helped to clear her head after the night before. At the lake, she laughed when several geese took issue with WD’s proximity and honked in indignation as they chased him away. Finding a tree a safe distance from the touchy birds, the siblings settled underneath it to rest from their walk. WD sat shredding a stalk of the long grass that surrounded them. Anne sprawled out her legs and leaned her head against his shoulder. The water before them shimmered in the sunlight.       

A breeze tickled her curls across her face and his. WD swiped at the tendrils. She giggled and tucked her hair back.

“You going to tell me why you dragged me all the way out here?” WD asked finally.

“I told you,” she said tilting her face up toward the sun, “it’s a beautiful day. Did you want to waste it inside?”

“I wasn’t ‘wasting’ it,” WD complained.

“There are plenty of women you can chase back home.”

“What if this one’s special?” He threw away a mangled stalk and picked another.

“Is she? Or is that wishful thinking?”

“What stone have you been sharpening your tongue on?” he joked. “No mercy. And considering the spree you’ve been on, you’re one to talk.” He nudged her playfully.

Anne exhaled. “He said he wants to marry me.”

WD jerked around so fast that her head slipped, and she fell painfully back into the tree. “Ow!” She rubbed the back of her skull.

“Moe or Carlyle?” her brother demanded sharply.

“Phillip.”

He gaped at her. “Has he lost his mind? You said no?”

“He didn’t exactly propose. He mentioned it as a possibility. In the future.” Anne drew up her knees and propped her elbows on them.

“So that’s what the dress was about, huh?” WD tugged violently at a patch of grass. It came loose with the dirt still attached. He crumpled it in his large hand and tossed it away.  

There was no point in continuing to hide how she had gotten the dress if WD guessed. “It brought it up.” Remembering something, she added, “I wonder how he knew it’s the one I wanted.”

Her brother shifted, rolling his shoulders. “You didn’t say anything to him about it?”

“No. Why would I tell him about a dress?”

WD scowled. “Well apparently you’re telling him enough other things he thinks he can marry you.”

Anne leaned back against the tree, hugging her knees. “What happened last night? How did you find him?”

WD looked surprised by her redirection but went along with it. “I don’t know much. I was helping Mr. Fanque into his carriage when Mr. Stanhope came out carrying a woman. She would’ve been screaming ‘cept he was holding a hand over her mouth. He carried her some ways down the sidewalk, but he couldn’t get far. She was a fighter. Like a cat caught in water. Finally he got her to settle down some so he could let her go.”

“Soon as he did, she started screaming ‘how dare he,’ and she went after Mr. Stanhope for taking ‘his side.’ She made some other accusations before someone came running with her coat. Mr. Stanhope threw it on her, picked her up, and shoved her into a carriage. That’s when he caught me watching.”

“He summoned me inside. Asked me what I was doing outside to be there to see. I told him I’d been seeing Mr. Fanque off. Then he told me to follow him and brought me to Carlyle. He didn’t want you to know what happened. I told him he was an idiot if he didn’t think you’d figure it out. That’s when he asked me to get Mrs. Barnum. That’s all I know, Annie. I didn’t ask any questions, but from the scene the woman made, I guess you had something to do with it.”

Anne gnawed at her lip while she mulled over her brother’s version of the night. The grass squeaked as WD yanked free a few more stalks to shred.

“Do you think she was his lover?” she asked quietly.

Her brother squinted over at her. “I don’t need to tell you that man’s devoted to you.”

“Do you?”

He sighed and slung an arm around her. “Why do you go asking questions whose answers are just going to upset you?”

“So you do?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

A tinge of jealousy tugged at her, but she quickly brushed it aside. Whatever had happened between Phillip and Miss Dunning was long past and very clearly finished. The woman probably had not been happy to learn that a woman who looked like Anne ultimately had won such an eligible bachelor’s heart. She would not be the only one if she and Phillip continued to pursue anything beyond a professional relationship.

WD rubbed her shoulder. “I told him about the dress.” Anne pursed her lips skeptically making her brother grin. “I did! He asked about what you wanted. It was the only thing I could think of.”

She leaned away from him, giving him one of her dirtiest looks. “You were pretending you didn’t know who got it for me?!”

The man smiled smugly. “I might not be making threats anymore, but I’m not going to make it _easy_.”

Anne growled in annoyance and pummeled him with her fists. Laughing, he protected his head from her, begging her to preserve his pretty face for the Queen. “Don’t do that again,” she commanded when she let up. However, she could not keep a small smile from her face. Her brother had played ignorant too well. She had believed he would be upset!

“I’m ending it anyway,” she sighed. “That’s the only reason I took the dress.”

WD looked at her sympathetically before folding her in his arms. He stroked her hair. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he whispered against her ear. He pressed his lips to her temple and let her cry herself out on his shoulder.

Keeping his earlier promise, Phillip took her back to the British Museum. He also showed her the large clock tower affectionately called Big Ben near the Houses of Parliament and Trafalgar Square. He explained what Mr. Lindsay meant by it not being his fault this time that the library was destroyed. He had once rode a horse into the library on a dare from Miss Dunning. Its droppings had ruined a carpet. After that they carefully avoided talking about the soirée. Their fairy tale was coming to a close and neither wanted to spoil what was left of it.

The night before their audience with the Queen, Barnum announced over supper that the maids were laying out their costumes for the following day. Anne’s heart sank in dismay. She was going to be meeting _the_ Queen Victoria in a purple leotard and pink hair?

“We’re the entertainment,” Barnum replied to the babble of protests. Anne looked over at Phillip who had paused in a game of cat’s cradle with Caroline. He looked as surprised as everyone else. “I’ll talk to him,” he mouthed when their eyes met. She doubted it would do much good, but she smiled in thanks anyway.

As expected, whatever Phillip said did nothing to sway P.T. Barnum. In spite of her chagrin over her attire, Anne could not suppress her giddiness when she rose the next morning. At least everything had been laundered. After breakfast and quick stroll to calm herself, she carefully applied her makeup and pulled on her leotard, gold heeled boots, and pink wig. Her satin purple shoulder cape was as much cover as she could hope for with her costume. She tugged at the ruffles that capped her thighs to get them to come as low as possible.

Octavia and Cecelia, already dressed, helped Lettie into her corset and gown. The singer usually wore silk flowers in her hair, but Octavia suggested they use some of the blooms that Anne had received. The women plucked the freshest and tucked them in among the imitation ones to livening effect. “We’ll have to do this the next time, Mr. Richard comes to see you,” Cecelia teased.

“It does make a difference,” Octavia added, adjusting and smoothing the flowers here and there to her satisfaction. For someone who kept her own head shaved, she enjoyed arranging others’ hair.

Lettie smiled at her reflection in the mirror and took a breath. “Well, this is it ladies. _We’re_ meeting the Queen.”

They embraced one another, Octavia in gold, Anne and Lettie in purple, and Cecelia in red. Downstairs the lobby was a flurry of activity as guests looked on, and Phillip directed members of the troupe into carriages that Mr. Stanhope had sent for them. Lettie frowned as she looked out the window of the one they shared with Alec, whose long facial hair had been scented with oils and curled, and WD.

“Someone forgot to mention he wouldn’t be wearing _his_ costume,” she grumbled. The others leaned forward to see what she was talking about. Phillip hurried down the stairs of the hotel followed by Mrs. Barnum and Barnum, who was wearing a tuxedo nearly identical to Phillip’s instead of his red ringmaster jacket.

“Does it surprise you?” Octavia asked dryly.

Lettie sat back into her bench, a thoughtful look on her face. “I wish I was a little more surprised is all.” Anne felt the same.

However, there was little that could keep them down that day, and they were soon talking about the afternoon to come. At Lettie’s gasp, they all crowded against the window to watch as Buckingham Palace came into view. The sprawling residence rose imposing and stately against the day’s gray sky. Anne tried to count the vast number of windows on the front of the building but lost track with the shifting view and jostling among her friends to see it.

The carriages brought them through the tall black iron fence with gold spires that enclosed the royal home. Mr. Stanhope was waiting for them in the small but lavishly decorated receiving room where they were allowed just enough time to arrange themselves and smooth out their costumes. Because the troupe were technically the guests of the Queen, Mr. Stanhope with Mrs. Barnum on his arm brought up the rear. Then they were whisked away through a series of galleries and hallways. The ceilings rose high above them creating an echo of their movements.

Phillip and Barnum followed a man in a gold-trimmed scarlet uniform with white hose at the head of their procession. Lettie and WD were next. Anne walked behind them beside Frank with his three legs and Constantine who was more exposed than she to show off his tattoo covered torso and legs. At least he had a full length cape though.

Anne gasped quietly when they reached the Grand Staircase. Plush red carpet cascaded over the marble stairs, which split and curved up on either side, enclosed in a magnificent gilded bronze balustrade of fauna scrolls. High overhead a glass dome let in what little sunlight escaped through the clouds. On the walls hung portraits of men and women Anne assumed to be former kings and queens and their kin. Elaborate sconces supported branches of candles. Their guide did not permit them to linger and gape, whisking them along more hallways that dwarfed them with their height.

“Why aren’t we in tails?” WD asked lowly to keep his voice from echoing.

Over his shoulder, the ringmaster insisted, “We’re the entertainment.”

Lettie, hurrying alongside the purple clad trapeze artist with her skirts bunched in her hands to keep from tripping at the pace set for them, hissed, “Don’t see you in a costume.” Anne bit back a smile as Phillip held up a hand for them to be quiet. Leave it to her brother and Lettie to protest their attire up to the very last moment. 

Phillip held up his hand more insistently and slowed to a stop. Their guide continued on, and she heard him announce, “Your Majesty. Mister Phineas T. Barnum and his...oddities from America.” Anne did not like his pause or the introduction they had been given, but apparently their say mattered little here.

The man stepped aside and held up his white-gloved hand as their cue to proceed. Phillip cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. He quickly glanced back and offered Anne an encouraging smile before he led their column forward.

They proceeded along a thick carpet that thankfully muffled their footsteps. It did nothing though to mute the whispers that broke out. On both sides, stoic men in red doublets with white ruffs around their neck and hats lined with red, white, and blue ribbon bows stood holding long poles with ax-like heads. Behind them, courtiers covered with jewels, gems, and pearls on their clothes, in their hair, at their necks and wrists, and on their fingers goggled at the strange procession before them. Anne kept her head high though she refused to meet the curious and occasionally hostile gazes of their onlookers.

At the head of the carpet sat Queen Victoria on a throne of scarlet and gold. Far smaller than Anne expected, the woman wore a black trimmed plum gown, white gloves, and a gem encrusted crown. Diamonds dripped from her ears and around her neck. Beside her sat a glossy cocker spaniel.

Phillip and Barnum stopped a few feet from her dais. “Your Majesty.” Phillip spoke without a waiver in his voice. “May I present, Mr. Barnum.”

“The honor is mine, Mr. Barnum,” replied the Queen. An amused smile spread across her lips. “And I’ve heard all about your little colonel from my friends in America.”

Charles walked forward. “General, ma’am,” he corrected. Anne forced herself not to wince. She was not sure anyone in this room, most especially Queen Victoria, would take kindly to her being corrected.

Cheeks flushing, the Queen sat up in surprise. “Oh! You’re even smaller than I imagined,” she exclaimed.

“Well you’re not exactly reaching the top shelf yourself, sweetheart,” Charles replied. Anne clutched her cape tighter and glanced toward the guards, half expecting them to lower their axes and order everyone out immediately. Charles's outspokenness often garnered laughs at home but now was not the time, she thought angrily, returning her eyes to the ground to avoid the hardening stares she could feel directed their way. The silence was stifling.

Then a sound she least expected burst through the frozen room. A full-throated laugh. Her head jerked up to see the Queen rock forward with her hand over her heart, most definitely delighted by Charles’ quip. The woman gasped as if trying to collect herself but then gave into her mirth. Slowly, the spell was lifted from her audience as the aristocrats joined in nervously and then resoundingly until it was uncertain they were laughing with their monarch or at the motley group before them. Anne supposed that it did not make a difference if it allowed them to stay.

When the laughter abated, the Queen asked Barnum a few more questions before she thanked all of them for coming to see her. That was their dismissal. They were led off to a corner of the room where they would not be in the way.

By the time the Queen’s receiving line dwindled, Anne almost wished they had been thrown out. A thin leotard was not the appropriate attire for the palace regardless of what Barnum insisted about them being the entertainment. Under the reproving glares of the matrons Anne pulled her scant cape closer. WD was too busy calming a disgruntled Charles to notice her discomfort. Couldn’t the ladies see she was no happier in her costume than they?

“Breathe,” Cecelia soothed, coming to her side. “You look like a colt trapped by a pack of wolves.”

“That’s what I feel like. Don’t you care they’re staring at us?”

The dancer shrugged. “No. I’m never going to see any of them again.”

“Well that’s a way of looking at it,” Anne mumbled still trying to pull her cover closer around her.

Her friend pulled her arms away. “Tugging at it isn’t going to make it grow or make you invisible. Stop fidgeting. It draws more attention to you.”

A horn sounded somewhere beyond the hall and the man who had announced them stood at attention just inside the giant doors.

“Your Majesty,” he sang out. “Miss Jenny Lind.”

One of the most beautiful women Anne had ever seen floated in on the billowing cloud of her white dress embroidered with crystals. Her features, framed by auburn hair gathered to one side, looked like they had been carved by a master artisan right down to the enigmatic, sultry curve of her mouth.

Jenny Lind. This must be the famous opera singer whom she had heard about at Mr. Lindsay’s party. The woman appeared as much a queen as Queen Victoria and only her deep curtsy distinguished the two. Anne was not the only one who found it hard to take her eyes off of the woman. As soon as she glided away from the Queen’s presence, Barnum and Phillip hurried forward to meet her.

Anne wished more than ever she was wearing one of the gowns that Mrs. Alston had given her. They were nowhere near as grand as anything in this room, but she would have some dignity to stand on. She watched through the cluster of her friends as Phillip bowed and raised the woman’s hand to his lips. The circus partners spoke to her for a few minutes until she was called away. When they turned, Barnum was beaming like he had heard the voice of God. He strode over to join his wife. Phillip also looked stunned, although nowhere near as happy as his partner. He downed his glass of champagne and quickly exchanged it for another before someone pulled him into a conversation.

No one spoke to their troupe so they mingled among one another. Most were grateful simply to have had a chance to meet Her Majesty.

“Your face is too pretty for such a sour look.” Anne turned at the vaguely familiar voice. Mr. Stanhope stood beside her, his cheeks lifted in a mischievous grin. “I only had a brief moment to speak with you at my friend’s party.”

“You’ll tarnish your reputation among these folks mingling over here,” she said coolly.

“Thank you for the warning, but it comes many years too late.” He leaned against the wall beside her. “Or has Pip already told you that?”

“He said not to go off alone with you,” she admitted.

“I had hoped he’d come to think more highly of me.”

Despite Phillip’s warning, Anne felt herself liking Mr. Stanhope. He looked like someone who could be a scoundrel but then again, scoundrels were not so exclusive in the company they were willing to keep.

“Does he have a reason not to?” she asked more politely than she had started off their conversation.

The man snorted. “Phillip was always our conscience so to speak. He’s terribly honorable through and through. Or at least he tries to be.”

“What does that mean?”

Now that Mr. Stanhope stood on their group’s periphery, some of the servers ventured closer bearing finger foods and drinks. Anne declined when they were offered to her. He selected a flute of champagne for himself. “Are you sure you don’t want any? It’s the very best.”

“No, thank you,” she said firmly. Drinking anything stronger than lemonade among these people did not seem like a good idea.

“Oh well.” He took a sip and smacked his lips quietly in delight. “To your question about Pip. He leads a life anyone would call blessed. However, those blessings have a cost. Most of us don’t see it or choose not to. His writing though. It’s of a man struggling to live with himself.” Their conversation had suddenly turned unsettling. She wondered about a man who would reveal such a private intimation about his friend to a near stranger.

Mr. Stanhope seemed to see the shift in her expression. “I think you’ve been good for him, Anne Wheeler. To a point. Lord knows the trouble he’s getting himself into though. You’d do well to think twice before you ruin him.” He gulped back his champagne. “Stay well. It has certainly been a pleasure meeting you.” He gave her a mocking bow and strolled off.

Her hands shook as she ran her fingers through the bangs of her wig. Maybe she should have taken Phillip’s advice and steered clear of his friend. Or perhaps Mr. Stanhope felt that he was looking out for his friend. He had been amiable otherwise.

She wondered what he meant about Phillip being a man struggling to live with himself. She was keeping secrets from him. Until now, she had never thought that he was keeping things from her. But was he?

The shadows were lengthening by the time they were escorted out of the palace and to their carriages. Anne was grateful for the warmth of her companions during the ride. Her costume offered little protection against the chill. She hitched a smile onto her face as the others exclaimed over meeting the Queen and the palace. Everyone was too excited to note her silence.

A few days later, onboard their homeward bound ship, Phillip told her that Barnum was arranging for Jenny Lind to perform in New York that winter. To her guilty relief, he did not sound happy about it.

"I'm sorry, Anne," he said quietly.

"For what?"

"I should have told everyone to wear what they wanted to meet the Queen and dealt with PT's anger myself." He smoothed her windswept curls. "I saw you." Regret pinched his face.

Remembering her conversation with Mr. Stanhope, she removed his hand from her hair. "It's not always easy to do the right thing."

His face relaxed some. "How do you make it seem so natural?" 

A knot formed in her throat. "Stop," was all she could manage at first. She took a shaking breath. "It's-it's not. I don't always do the right thing." 

Phillip's eyebrows came together. "What do you mean?" The corners of his mouth lifted, and he raised her fingers to his lips. "I've seen you. The driver. The policemen."  

"No. This, Phillip. This wasn't the right thing." Under the canopy of stars, Anne kissed him chastely on the cheek and walked away, ending their fairy tale.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew this is a rocky road! Obviously you have an idea of what's ahead, and it's only going to get bumpier. Sorry, Anne's an introvert who's not exactly going to gush her love for Phillip and a realist who doesn't believe the best of the world. But if you look close enough, you can see she cares deeply.


	14. Just you and me within these walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go lovelies!! All I can say is, hold onto to your hats. Enjoy!  
> xoxo

Anne stood at the ship’s railing looking out over the ocean behind them. In less than a day, they would be sailing into New York harbor. Her heart quickened eagerly at the thought of being home and back on familiar ground. Back where she belonged. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip coming toward her. His steps were halting and uncertain. This time she did not turn away but let him approach. She might have fled were it not for something off about his usual appearance. As always, he was meticulously dressed. But his normally clean shaven chin was lined with the beginnings of beard. Dark circles ringed his eyes as if he had slept little over the last few nights.    


Anne felt her resolve quiver seeing what her goodbye had done to him. Already she desperately missed the rapport that had grown between them over the last few weeks. She missed their banter and until now had not realized how much his smiles meant to her. A part of her wanted badly to tell him that. But she had also learned just how different their worlds were while they were England. They had indulged their feelings for one another and now it was time to move on. Better that they have memories to treasure than find themselves wrecked against the rocks, so to speak. 

His voice was rough and unused when he spoke. “Have you decided not to avoid me or has someone glued your feet to the deck?” he asked, leaning his back against the rail and sliding his hands into his pockets. He squinted against the sunlight rather than look at her.    


Anne let out an amused huff. “Please don’t give Lettie any ideas. She’s not talking to me.” 

“I know how that feels.” There was no reproach in his voice, but she still felt the sting of his words. “I’m curious,” he said changing the subject. “You and WD could have stayed in England, gained the renown you deserve. Why did you come back?” 

“This is home.” Feeling that was not enough, she added after thinking, “I didn’t feel like I belonged there. Not that I always feel like I belong here. But here at least is home.” 

Phillip nodded thoughtfully. Her explanation did not make much sense, but he seemed to understand.

“And I don’t think I like fame,” she added, wrinkling her nose at all of the unwanted attention and expectations that had come with it. He snorted.

It was true, what he said about her avoiding him. She hoped that with time and space they could both come to terms with the reality and impossibility of their situation. Phillip would realize what being attached to her meant and quietly move on. It did neither of them any good to accept promises he would not be able to keep. 

But what was best in the long run was not always painless in the present and no amount of logic or forethought could silence the part of her that could not stand having any bitterness between them. “Are you angry with me?” 

For now they were alone. The promise of a land sighting and the movement of the sun’s warmth drew the other passengers to other side of the ship. From the sound of it, several deck games were in full swing.

He slowly crossed one leg over the other, still not looking at her. “I don’t know. I’m trying to understand, Anne. I was watching you perform in London, and it struck me that who you are in the air is so different from who you are on the ground. And I know that much--maybe even all--of that has to do with how unjustly you’ve been treated your whole life. But you’ve carved this life out for yourself in spite of that. You became a trapeze artist, taught yourself from books, and with so little grew into an admirable woman. That’s not someone who accepts what life hands her.”

“So what I can’t understand--what I’m trying to understand--is why, when it comes to us, to you and me, you’re suddenly willing to let the world dictate what can be. Moe barely lifted a finger, and you were halfway into his arms. Did you think I didn’t see? Or hurt?” He licked his lips. “So I have to wonder, is it something I’ve done or haven’t, Anne? Is it me? Or are you holding things against me that I have no more control over than you have over the color of  _ your _ skin?” 

The intensity in his face when he finally looked over at her rooted her to the spot. Anne opened her mouth to protest and then snapped it shut. He deserved more than the first thing that came to her mind. 

“No,” he stopped her impatiently. “Say what you were going to say. Why do you feel like there are things you can’t say to me? You’re always holding something back.”

Of all the things she had expected him to say or do when she saw him approach, a confrontation was not one of them. “I wasn’t trying to use Moe to hurt you.” 

“Then what were you doing?” 

Anne inhaled. “That’s not the question you asked me.” 

“Well it’s the one I want answered,” he said tersely.

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” 

“Well you’ve been doing a lot of things I haven’t liked lately. What’s it to you now?” There was a hard, aggressive edge to his voice. The Phillip who looked at her now had none of his usual patience or empathy. 

Anne hardened herself in return. “Fine. When I look at you, I don’t see a future. Just hurt, pain, heartbreak. Everything has been so complicated, so loaded. One wrong move and everything could explode. With him, it was simple. We could just be.” 

He laughed hollowly. “So you don’t feel like you can ‘just be’ with me?” 

Her own patience erupted and all that she had been holding in spilled out. “Are you truly that blind? From the moment you wanted anything more than a tryst from me, you put everything on the line for yourself and for me. Do you really feel like you can just be with me? Because if so, then I’m glad for you, Phillip Carlyle! I’m glad it’s so easy for you to keep me hidden from your family. I’m glad it’s so easy for you to imagine me willing to be kept until you want to parade me around to impress your friends! I’m glad it’s so easy for you not to realize that even though I’m used to it it still hurts to have someone look at you like something they’ve scraped off their shoe.” She sniffed and blinked back tears. “I’m glad it’s so easy for you to ‘just be’ with me.” 

Phillip’s jaw dropped. “If that’s how you felt why didn’t you say something?” 

She groaned in frustration. “Because you believe everything can be fixed. Just put the crewman in his place. Tell me to stay away. Have it out with someone in a library. It’s tiring enough what I have to put up with just to get through a day without throwing myself into a den of lions. So much of my life is one long act with a hundred faces I’m putting on to get to be that woman in the air, to not be that woman in the muddy gutter nearly crushed by a streetcar. I need people who can just let me be so I can remember who I am!” 

Hurt replaced the anger on his face. “And that’s not me.”

She ran her hand along the railing. “I haven’t felt like myself since I got off the boat. Except for with Mr. Fanque. And I never properly thanked you for doing that. It meant so much to me and even more to WD. Thank you.” 

Phillip scuffed at the deck. “Of course just as an argument is escalating you interrupt it with a moment of heartfelt gratitude.” His tone was impossible to read. 

“I can keep escalating it if that’s what you want,” she snapped. 

“I think you’ve said enough.” His voice softened. “For now. And you’re welcome.” He waited a few beats to calm himself down. “So you were going to bottle all that up and walk away? Without giving me any chance to respond? Or even  _ know _ ? I can’t know what’s going on in your head when you shut me out, Anne. I have a hard enough time as it is when you’re letting me in.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

If that’s what he thought, then she would put it bluntly. “Phillip, I don’t belong in your world.”  

Unexpectedly, he nodded. “And I didn’t exactly make it easy for you. Let’s start there because I do owe you an apology. What happened with George and Henry was my fault. I asked for favors of them, but those were my favors, and I should not have made you feel beholden to them in any way nor allowed them to treat you like a chip in a negotiation. I didn’t stand up for you when I should have. I’m sorry.” 

She knew he was trying to clear the air, but the admission still hurt. “Why didn’t you?” 

He looked down. “They are my friends, and I didn’t want to rock any boats. I’m not proud of it.”

Anne wrapped her arms around herself. “What you want is going to rock a lot of boats. And there are many situations where I can’t stand up for myself, especially when I’m up against people who have money and power. This time it was uncomfortable. Next time it could be dangerous. And not just for me. For you. People don’t always take the time to think through the ripple of repercussions.”   

“I’m sorry about Aurora.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Phillip. But you see how quickly things can become dangerous or get out of hand? Imagine if it was me she had cornered.”

Phillip swallowed. “Anne, I’m trying.” And his expression was so earnest and so desperate that it gutted her.

She looked away. They were still alone. “Why do you want this to be so hard?” she whispered through the tight pain in her throat. “For both of us? If we keep going it’s only going to get harder and hurt more.”

“Maybe it’s selfish of me. But I’ve always run from the things worth fighting for. And I never ended up happier or more whole for it. I’m tired of running, and something tells me that running from you might be a regret I never recover from. I’ve written a dozen plays and read hundreds more without finding the words to describe why it is we fall in love with a given person, so I don’t know how to undo this. I don’t know if I want to. Because for the first time, I feel like I’m living a life that I’m choosing. And even the choices that hurt are better than the ones I’ve let other people make for me.” 

“So I will walk away if you don’t think your feelings will ever match mine. There’s no use fighting for something that isn’t there. But forget for a minute what the world will say. What everyone else says. If you could love me without the mountains we might have to climb, I don’t want this to be another decision I let be made for me.”  

She fought down the urge to remind him that all of the things he asked her to set aside could not be set aside in the end. Frustration rose in her. They both ought to have a say in this but whose was the final word when there could be no middle road? Phillip seemed to see some of her turmoil. “Unless you know, you don’t have to have an answer right now,” he told her. 

Anne turned away so that he would not see her relief. “I’m sorry. About what happened with Moe.” 

“I didn’t like it. But I’m trying to understand what you were saying about being able to be you.” He paused. “As for my family…”

“Phillip,” she sighed in exasperation. “Stop trying to fix  _ everything _ . This is what I mean.”

“But if that’s one of the things that’s making this seem impossible...”

She shook her head. “Sometimes you can’t fix things. But you can’t ignore them and pretend they’re not there either. Acknowledging that they are messy and complicated is enough.” A seagull’s cry drew her attention overhead. She squinted up at it swooping over the open water. Life would be so much simpler as a bird, she thought. 

Anne shaded her eyes when she looked back down at him. He was not the only one grappling with nagging questions. “Your friend, Mr. Stanhope, told me that you were a man struggling to live with yourself and that I was good for you. Do you know what he meant?” 

Phillip lifted his hands out of his pockets and let them fall at his sides. His head drooped. “Trust Henry to see it that way.” He glanced around. “I can’t--don’t want to explain here. Come with me.” 

Startled, and curious, Anne followed him back to his stateroom. He offered her a seat in one of the arm chairs and poured himself a drink. He took a swig. And then another. Finally he set the glass down and sat across from her on the short couch. Phillip rubbed his hands together and then popped up to take another gulp. She had noticed how quickly he could drink when he felt out of control.

“You’re not about to tell me that you murdered someone, are you?” she asked mildly. 

To her shock, his face went white as he stared into his glass. “I don’t know. But no, not directly.” 

He left the drink and came back to sit down. His hands were shaking. 

“I was supposed to go to Princeton, a college in New Jersey,” he began. “I  _ was _ at Princeton, nearly finished with my first year, when my mother showed up in the middle of the night, insisting that I pack my bags immediately. We were gone before I even understood why. President Lincoln had just declared war on the South, and she was afraid that surrounded by young men hungry to rise to national fame and glory, I’d be swayed to enlist. My parents decided it was best for me to go abroad until things settled down. We left for England before the week was out.” 

“But the war didn’t come to the quick end everyone thought it would. I watched, safe in Oxford, as it went on. I kept telling myself there was no point in going home. The fighting would probably be over before I got across the Atlantic. Of course, I was lying to myself.”

He got up to pace. “Then Congress passed the conscription act and all hell broke loose in New York City. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I sailed home to register. Not until then did I learn that my parents had not only paid the exemption fee. Fearing it would not be enough, they had paid someone to take my place. We fought. I’ve never seen my mother cry so hard. When I threatened to enlist anyway, my father told me to do so would cost me my inheritance. I chose my inheritance.” 

Tears glistened in his eyes as he looked at her and held his arms open with a shrug. “After that, I started having nightmares about the faceless man who took my place. For all I knew he was dead, buried in some mass grave or worse left on the battlefield to rot. That’s what I dreamed anyway. All the time. This  _ was  _ something I couldn’t fix, and some days living with it felt unbearable. When I met Henry, I was disgusted with myself, my parents, the life I lived. He, Aurora, and George were reckless and carefree. I thought they could help me escape looking in the mirror. And for a time they did.” 

“Henry, well, he saw me at my worst. I’m not sure he can fathom me having anything but lust for you.” Phillip stopped and leaned forward against the couch. He laughed bitterly. “He probably thinks my attraction to you is some kind of atonement.” 

Phillip let out a shaking breath and then he sobbed. “You asked if I was angry with you. All these months you’ve been pulling away I’ve been so afraid that you’ve seen through me. That I’m a coward beneath all the finery.” His shoulders shook as he cried, and Anne could not stay in her seat any longer. 

She went to him and pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly across his shoulders and running her fingers through the back of his hair. He buried his face in her neck and trembled against her. Their hearts thudded unevenly and frantic against one another's.  

“I’ve been afraid too,” she murmured. “I’ve been afraid that you’re so in love with me that you aren’t thinking about the consequences. I’ve been afraid that you will wake up one day and resent me for them. I’ve been afraid of making you choose.” His hands slid around her and tugged her closer. “I’ve thought you were reckless. Blind. Stupid. Ignorant. Arrogant. But not a coward.” He laughed wetly against her neck. His cheek chaffed her skin but the pain was oddly welcome.

She sighed. “I’ve been so busy worrying you could never fully understand who I was that it never occurred to me to try to share.” 

He lifted his face to look at her. It was her turn to wipe away his tears. His mouth was so close. His hand cupped her neck, and he leaned in. It took all her strength to place her fingers over his lips. 

“Please don’t walk away again.” His lips brushing over her fingers stirred a heat in the pit of her stomach. She willed the feeling to subside. Anne was not sure if she loved him as he loved her. But whatever was inside of her, what little of it that seeped past every defense she put up against him, would not let her walk away. 

“I think I’ve been doing this all wrong,” she admitted. 

“We can start over,” he told her, eyes fervent with hope. “I thought if you could admit you loved me everything would fall into place, we would figure things out. Maybe I’ve been going about it all wrong too.” 

“So what do we do?” 

Phillip stepped back. “I think maybe it’s time I let you take the lead instead of tugging you along.” He ran a hand over her hair. “We’ll go however and wherever you want, Anne.”  

The prospect of that scared her. For a second, it felt as if he were placing everything in her hands. But he had watched her walk away time and time again, and he was still here. She realized she was starting to take that for granted. What if she walked away one day, and he wasn’t there when she turned around? That thought frightened her more than what she had to do now. 

Phillip agreed to give her some time to figure out their course. No flowers, no gifts, just time, he promised with a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

She used it to get resettled into her life in New York City. Zipporah, their cat, wanted nothing to do with them after they abandoned her to their landlady for weeks. No amount of cream or treats could earn her forgiveness. She was especially angry with Anne who had been her favorite. One afternoon, the feline swiped and hissed at her when Anne tried to brush her fur, a task Zipporah had enjoyed before.

“Fine!” Anne snapped. “I have better things to do anyway.” The cat turned up her tail and strutted away. Lettie laughed. At least, they were back on speaking terms. 

Toward mending things with Phillip, she took his lead from the ship and started with the secrets she had kept from him. Haltingly at first, she told him about her family, how the man who had fathered her had sold her and her mother and brother. Sitting across from her in one of the chairs in his office with his elbows on his knees, his fingers folded in front of him, he did not interrupt, even when it looked like the pain or anger he felt on her behalf might overwhelm him. 

She told him about their mother leaving them on a wagon bed and being found by Tirza. The more she shared, the lighter she began to feel. She told him about struggling to find work, the cold, hungry, desperate nights after being cheated and turned out by circus proprietors, their first stay in New York and Miss Swann, now Mrs. Blake. Anne told him everything up until the moment Barnum had invited them to join his circus, and they finally found a place to settle down.

Phillip was quiet for long moments after she finished. His taut face remained closed. Anne swallowed and rubbed one of the calluses on her palm. “I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind.” 

That moved him. “Why would I change my mind,” he asked roughly, “when I fell in love with you only knowing a fraction of how brave and resilient and beautiful you are, Anne?”  

Limp with the relief of her confession, she let herself cry. Phillip came to crouch before her and  took her hands in his, holding on for as long as she needed.

He handed her a handkerchief when her tears slowed. His lips curved slightly in a small, loving smile while she wiped her face. “Are you sorry you told me all this?” he murmured. 

Anne gave him an annoyed look although she was sure the blow was softened by her splotchy face and red nose. “You only asked that because you know I’m not.” 

“That’s not true,” he replied, although his eyes twinkled a bit. “Or not entirely. I’d hoped so, but I’ve learned by now that I can’t predict most of the things that come out of your mouth.”  

“WD used to complain that he’d think of everything, and I’d still always say the thing he hadn’t thought of.”

Phillip rose and tucked a curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, making Anne catch her breath. She hid it in a sniff. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he told her.  


Relief made it feel like she walked across a cloud leaving his office.  

Anne brought him to meet Mrs. Alston, introducing him as the man who had arranged for her to meet the Queen. Mrs. Alston’s initial wariness faded considerably when he complimented her taste in Anne’s travel wardrobe. 

He asked about her mother, and this time, Anne told him everything she knew, little as it was. Phillip wanted to know why she had not searched her out. “I guess I wouldn’t know where to start,” she admitted. “WD barely remembers what she looked like and has no idea where we ran from.” 

In return, Phillip brought her to his house. He showed her the library he had told her about and loaned her the book of poems by Percy Bysshe Shelley. At first his staff stared at her. Anne noticed that the next time she returned the ones who had been openly rude were nowhere to be seen. When she asked his scarred valet about it, the man shrugged. “Some people don’t know better to hold their tongues.” 

“Are they still here?” 

“Yes, but they won’t bother you, Miss Wheeler,” he told her, misunderstanding her concern. “No one had ever seen Mr. Carlyle lose his temper, and I doubt they will want to see him do it again.” 

She liked Crispin. Of everyone in Phillip’s household, he was the most natural with her. He showed her his sketches and told her about his dream of being an artist before the war. 

“You could still do it,” she said, sliding her fingers along the lines of a lifelike bird he had drawn. It looked like it was about to hop from the page. 

“My hands were exposed to too much cold,” he said matter-of-factly. “Some days it’s too painful to hold a pencil.” 

Anne apologized. 

“No need to be sorry. It’s not as if I cannot draw at all.” 

When the days began to grow hot, she and Phillip sat in the shade of one of the oaks in his backyard sometimes in silence, other times talking for hours. He held her when she cried after learning the news that Pablo Fanque had died in May, only a few weeks after their meeting. They talked about what happened in England, how disorienting it had been to discover fame, and how scared she was navigating a world where she felt so out of place. With much prodding, he let her read his plays. Mr. Stanhope was right about his earlier works. He was a man struggling to live with himself. 

One afternoon, she arrived at his house to find a large picnic set up outside. Penelope, his younger sister Josephine and her twin Lilian joined them. The girls showed her their puppy Thalia, and the five of them played hide and seek, a game the puppy did not understand but was eager to help in. No one stayed unfound for long. Much to his sisters’ delight, Phillip showed them the choreography Barnum was teaching him and some of his own invention. 

Before the girls left, when Phillip thought she could not hear, he made the girls promise not to mention her to their parents. It was clear both idolized him, and they agreed readily. A pang of guilt struck her. Would they always have to be shrouded in lies? Anne fought down rising panic. Or would the world come to collect on their happiness? Everything teetered so precariously.   


Phillip did not bring up marriage again. Their visit with the Queen had the desired effect, and the success of the circus surged. For the first time in a long time, Anne was able to live entirely in the present. When she worried about what the future held for them, Phillip smoothed her hair and told her they had all the time to figure it out. 

In July, a riot that would become known as the Orange Riot broke out north of the circus. In a matter of hours, sixty-three people were killed and over twice as many injured. A disgruntled Barnum was forced to send everyone home that afternoon and the next for fear the unrest would spillover into the circus. The first night, Lettie celebrated by inviting Mr. Richard Elliot over for supper, for which Anne was grateful since it relieved her of her cooking rotation. None of the others ever let her cook for guests. She liked her friend’s beau, a professional sideshow bally talker who left them all in aching heaps of laughter with the yarns he told.

Zipporah, who had reinstated Anne into her affections, also liked the man who had a habit of slipping her morsels under the table.

The second evening, she spent with Phillip, Penelope, and her husband at his house. The drawing room windows were open but did little against the heat. Anne sat on the floor, leaning her head against the sill, wishing for even a sigh of cool air. Sweat trickled down and soaked her back. For now, their lemonade offered the only relief from the stifling night. Mr. Vandorn stood on the other side of the window. He watched the fan his wife used to cool herself enviously.

Behind them Penelope and Phillip discussed the fall out from the riot. Although worry lined Phillip’s face, Anne saw from the corner of her eye that it eased some when he stole glances over at her. His friend pretended not to notice his divided attention but did wink at Anne and her husband during a moment of his distraction. Anne turned and stifled her giggle in the crook of her elbow.    


“The writing is on the wall for Tammany Hall. It’s been for awhile now,” Penelope said. “But this will be the last straw.”

“It’s about time. But I’m afraid it also means more protesters down at the circus, and I don’t think P.T. is taking the danger seriously enough. He’s going to wait until they pull the place down around our ears.” Tiredness laced Phillip’s words. He had complained about Barnum’s inaction to Anne many times since they had returned from England to find the front doors painted with slurs and a warning to get out of the city. The man had merely told Phillip to paint over it. 

“Hopefully this upheaval will all be over by the fall,” Penelope soothed. “But until then you could hire some men to keep watch and take care of any trouble.” 

“We don’t have enough, with the concert hall he’s booked for Miss Lind. He’s never even heard her perform, and he booked the grandest one in the city.”      

“Well you and I have, and you’re just envious that you weren’t bold enough to do it yourself. He does have a flair for--what does he call it? Show business.” 

While Penelope laughed, Phillip glanced over at Anne. Amusement passed between them before their eyes darted away from one another. She looked back, hoping for and rewarded with a glimpse of his tongue peeking through his lopsided smile. The tingling sensation of warmth and elation that had been building inside her over the last weeks surged. And suddenly she could not stop thinking of earlier that evening when his hand had brushed her shoulder and then whispered down the back of her arm until he slid his arm under hers to lead her and the Vandorns upstairs. There were promises in that gesture. 

Mr. Vandorn interrupted the trail of her thoughts. “Maybe we’ll be blessed with a rain soon to cool things off. Tempers and temperatures.” 

Anne burned beneath her heat flush, but no one seemed to notice. 

Summer was drawing to an end when Anne entered the circus building for practice one afternoon to find Barnum and Phillip waiting for her. Barnum looked grim, Phillip anxious and unhappy. Hands on his hips, the ringmaster demanded to know where her brother was as soon as he saw her.

“I don’t know,” she stammered going cold. “Is he in trouble?” 

“No, he’s not in trouble,” Phillip clarified, throwing an irritated look at his partner. “No one’s in trouble. We’ll explain when he gets here. Let’s move out of the way.” He herded them from the doorway to the walkway behind the benches. 

Barnum looked over his shoulder at Deng and Cecelia who hesitated, unsure whether to follow Anne or leave. “It’s a private matter, ladies. Leave her here.”

At Anne’s nod, the women reluctantly headed backstage.

“Why do we have to wait for WD?” Anne wanted to know while they stood in the shadows. 

The two men exchanged a look. Phillip shook his head. “It’s for the best.” 

What the hell was going on, she wondered. 

It seemed forever before her brother finally strolled in. He looked at Anne when Barnum and Phillip pulled him aside. She shrugged to show that she had no idea what was going on. Phillip led them up to his office. In the small space, he circled around behind his desk, leaving Anne and WD in the middle of the room. Barnum closed the door and leaned against it. The room felt even smaller with all of the tension in the air.  

“Mr. Barnum,” started WD, “we didn’t do anything.” 

“That’s not what this is about WD. Neither of you is in trouble.”

“Then what  _ is _ this about? Are you firing us?” Anne demanded at her brother’s side. What could possibly require such odd measures if they weren’t in any kind of trouble?

“No, Anne. It’s about you,” Phillip said quietly. He looked deeply unhappy about what he was going to say. “Two people arrived this morning asking for you. They said their names are Marianna and Zachary Wheeler.” WD tensed beside her. “They told us that you…” he struggled to find a way to delicately say what was making the blood pound in Anne’s ears. He gave up. “That they’ve brought something from their father. From your father. For you.”

Anne felt as if she had been plunged under water. Somewhere at the edge of her awareness, WD was shouting. She could not seem to make sense of what he was saying. Nothing made sense, the air was escaping her lungs faster than she could draw it in. 

“Anne,” someone was calling her name and shaking her. “Anne, look at me! WD calm down! I think she might faint.” 

More hands grabbed her to hold her up which, she thought hazily, was a good thing or else she would have fallen, fainted even, when the door flew open and her face appeared in it. “We thought you were dead,” it said. 

The room spun. 

Voices swirled around her head as the dim spots over her came into focus. Anne was surprised to find herself looking up into Barnum, Phillip, and WD’s anxious faces. 

“Easy,” Barnum warned pressing a hand to her shoulder when she tried to sit up. 

“I saw my face,” she said stupidly. That couldn’t be right, she thought. Was she going crazy? 

“That wasn’t your face, Anne,” WD told her. “That was Marianna’s.” He and Phillip helped her to her feet, WD lifting her shoulders and the other man gently pulling her arms. She swayed, and her brother swept her up and placed her in one of the chairs by the fireplace. 

“Put your head between your legs if you think you’re going to faint again kid,” Barnum told her kindly. He held a glass of Phillip’s whiskey beneath her nose. “Drink this.” The smell alone was enough to revive her. She took a sip feeling the liquid burn going down before warmth spread through her chest and stomach. 

Anne pushed the glass away. “I think I’m okay. What happened?” 

“Bless your heart. I think I gave you a fright,” said a woman in the doorway. The speaker indeed shared Anne’s round face, cheeks and thick eyebrows beneath curly brown hair. At first glance, the resemblance was remarkable, although it was now clear that Anne had inherited her mother’s eyes. Aside from that, Marianna Wheeler was about her height with the same slender build. 

The man beside her, whom Anne assumed to be Zachary, was only a breath taller than his sister. His face was longer with a narrow, delicate nose. He had thick, straight red hair. Both siblings had the same gray blue eyes. 

WD placed his hand on the back of the chair Anne was sitting in. “What do you want?” His voice was stilted, strained between cool and pleasant. 

Marianna drew a newspaper from under her arm. “Papa saw this.” WD took it from her and unfolded it. A sketch of Anne and WD accompanied a story about the circus’ time in England. “We kept telling him you were dead. Peterson told us you and your mother had all drowned in a river years back. Once Papa saw this though he wouldn’t believe it. You look just like your father and Anne...” 

WD cut her off. “Well that wasn’t true. This Peterson, does he know where our mother might be then?”

“We thought she was with you,” Marianna said uncertainly. “If you were alive, we thought…” 

“She’s not. We haven’t seen her since we ran away.”

The woman grimaced. Anne remembered that she had once been WD’s playmate before her mother tried to kill theirs. 

“If he knew what happened to your Mama, Peterson took it to his grave,” Zachary said gruffly. “He was killed in the war.”    

“WD, I’m sorry,” Marianna whispered. To her credit, she did look it.

Anne took her brother’s hand. She hated to see his hopes raised and dashed in a single moment. “What do you want with us then?” 

The other pair of siblings glanced at Barnum and Phillip. “If you’d be kind enough to give us some privacy,” Zachary said. 

“I’d rather not,” Anne interjected. Her resemblance left little doubt of her relation to Marianna, but she did not want to be left alone with them until she knew why two people who probably wanted nothing to do with them had traveled hundreds of miles to find her. 

Color rose in his cheeks at Anne’s negation of his request but any further protest from Zachary was silenced by his sister’s grip on his arm. “We understand this is all a shock,” she said diplomatically. 

“It has been,” Anne acknowledged. “But WD and I have a performance we need to prepare for so we don’t have all day.” 

“Our father is dying,” the eldest Wheeler told her. “He wanted you to have this.” She opened her purse and pulled out a thick wax sealed envelope and second more slender one. She handed them both to Anne. 

Anne took them. Phillip passed her his letter opener. She broke the seal of the larger one first and nearly dropped it. The envelope was filled with dozens of bills. A quick count told her it was over four thousand dollars. Union ones. 

“We only just found out,” Marianna said. “I think he explains in the letter but he--he always did plan to buy you back.” She looked around uncomfortably. “After what happened to your mother on--on the stairs, he was scared. He didn’t know what else to do. But he kept that. Even after we thought you were dead. Through the war. Some of it he used to pay the mortgage on the house after we--we lost just about everything else. But he put it all back.” 

Anne looked around at WD. His face was expressionless. He shook his head. She was glad he agreed. 

“We don’t want it.” 

Zachary snarled taking a step toward Anne. Barnum surged forward and grabbed his arm, a thundercloud rolling across his face. The younger man tried to wrench himself free. “You ungrateful little bitch. Our father--,” 

“Zach!” Marianna hardly raised her voice but the threat in it stopped his struggle. “If you can’t handle yourself, I will drag you out myself.” He glared around the room and jerked his arm free from the ringmaster’s hold.

His sister gathered herself. “He sent us here to bring it to you, Anne. He would have brought it himself, but he’s dying. The doctor says it could be any day. That you have this was--is his dying wish.”

Anne rose. “Then I’m sorry you wasted your time with him looking for me.” She held out both envelopes. “He destroyed my family. Peace of conscience can’t be bought.” 

“Destroyed your family?” Zachary’s eyes blazed madly. “Your whore mother destroyed mine!” he yelled. “She ruined my mother--!” Barnum jammed him up against the doorframe. Marianna stumbled back against the open door with a shriek. 

WD let out a feral yell at the expletives spewing from Zachary’s mouth as he called their mother all sorts of names. Money spilled across the floor from the envelope Anne dropped when she slammed into her brother to keep him from the screaming man across the room. Phillip came to help her hold WD back. It required every bit of her strength to hold him and to not let him at the bastard insulting their mother. But attacking a white man, regardless of who started it, could get WD killed. 

“Everyone calm down,” Barnum roared, ramming his forearm into Zachary’s throat. The instigator choked and hissed, saliva frothing at the corners of his mouth. 

WD heaved against their hold. “Stop it!” Anne ordered into his face. “You’re going to hurt me not him.” 

“What in fuck’s sake!” In the midst of the explosion, none of them had heard the reinforcements coming to their aid. Deng stood in the doorway, a knife in her throwing hand and another one Anne was sure up her sleeve. Lettie, Alec, Sean, and Constantine were ranged behind her, their fists up. 

“Nothing to see here. Everything’s fine,” Barnum growled. “We’ve got it all taken care of.” The newcomers stared. First at Marianna and then at Anne who turned back to bury her incriminating face in WD’s chest. He wrapped his arms around her. 

“Holy hell,” Lettie breathed. Constantine let out a stream of Greek. 

“Get out!” Barnum bellowed.    


There was shuffling, and Anne heard her friends retreat down the walk. She dared to look up.

Barnum was dragging Zachary up by the collar. As finely as he was dressed, there was no mistaking that Barnum knew how to handle himself in a fight. In his anger, he seemed to tower over the young man. “Now, you are going to get the hell off my property,” he snarled. “And if I see you back here or hear about you bothering Anne and WD again, I will call the police and bag you for them myself. And believe me, you’ll have wished they’d gotten to you first if I have to do that.” 

Marianna’s lip trembled. “Our mother, she died some years ago,” she said quietly. “Papa’s all we have left. It’s been hard on him.” She turned to look beseechingly at Anne. “Please read the letter, and if you have a reply, someone can deliver it here.” She placed a card on Phillip’s desk. “We leave on the first train in two days.” 

“Mr. Barnum, Mr. Carlyle. Thank you kindly for your hospitality. I apologize my brother’s behavior. Now if you’ll excuse me.” 

With a last glare, Barnum let go of Zachary and stepped back to let his older sister through the door. She took her brother’s ear between her fingers, and as if he were nothing more than a little boy, yanked him squealing after her. 

Barnum ran his hand over his face. WD slumped. Anne was suddenly unsure which of them was holding the other up. 

“They left the money,” he said dully. 

Phillip crouched down to collect it back into its envelope. “I’ll take it to the hotel later. Here.” He held out the letter to Anne. 

“I don’t want it.” 

He did not protest. He tucked it along with the cash into his inner breast pocket. “P.T. it’s probably best one of us calms everyone down downstairs.”   


“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll go do that. And make sure that boy got out of my building.” He cast a sympathetic look toward his two trapeze artists and left. 

Anne swallowed, searching for something to say. What was there to be said? She pulled away from WD. “Well, you got a glimpse of the Civil War. How’d it look?” 

Phillip looked at her sharply. “Don’t you dare joke about that, Anne.” 

“Was any of that funny?” 

Whatever Barnum had said downstairs silenced any questions the troupe had about the strange meeting that had caused such a commotion. If anyone had seen Marianna’s face and had questions, they kept them to themselves. Anne and WD changed for their performance that evening without a word more about what happened in Phillip’s office.

Afterward, WD refused to talk about it. He told her there was nothing to discuss. She could not blame him. He was dealing with the loss of their mother, a mother only he remembered, all over again. That was not true. Marianna remembered her too. Besides having lost their mothers, there was one more thing she and Zachary had in common. They had been caught up in a web of pain they could not even remember being created. She was not sure if that was a blessing or a curse. 

She told Lettie, Cecelia, and Octavia what happened. But it was Phillip she asked what to do about the letter and money that Marianna left for her. He poured her a cup of tea from the service on his library desk. He brought it over to where she sat curled up on the couch, a quilt draped over her legs, and settled on the armrest beside her. One arm folded over the other in his lap. 

Anne murmured her thanks and took a sip of the tea. It was chamomile sweetened with honey and tinged with a hint of brandy. “A recipe of Crispin’s. He says it’s soothing,” Phillip explained at the look of question on her face. 

She took a few more sip. By the time she was halfway through the cup, some of her muscles began to relax. Phillip waited until she finished to say his piece. He got up and refilled her cup.

“I understand why you might not want to accept the money,” he said. “But it’s a good sum that could help you and WD leave the circus for good. Your father’s trying to help.” 

“He’s not my father. And he’s only trying to clear his conscience before he meets his maker,” she insisted. 

Phillip remained carefully neutral. “You haven’t read his letter.” 

“I don’t need to. Or want to.” 

“He’s dying. You might regret it and once he’s gone, you won’t have another chance.” 

She sighed and took another sip of tea. Beyond relaxing her, it was starting to make her feel sleepy. Or maybe it was everything that had happened the day before. “You’re thinking of him as my father. Would you sell your child?” 

“No, but--”

“There’s no ‘but.’” 

“What about forgiveness? Can’t you at least give him that? If that’s all he asks.”

Anne ran her finger along the rim of the cup. “You think I’m wrong for refusing, don’t you?”

“I’m thinking that I can’t imagine what it must be like in your position right now. That’s all. This is a decision only you can make.” 

“I’m trying to think of what my mother would want,” she burst out angrily. “But I can’t because he’s the reason she’s not here to tell me.” 

“It’s not her decision, Anne. It’s yours. And I’ll do whatever you ask.” 

In the end, she decided to return only the letter. She wrote to Mr. Gideon Wheeler that she replied without forgiveness but with the hopes he would find peace without it. The money she kept, not for herself, but for the children at the Colored Orphan Asylum who like her and WD grew up without a mother or a father. She suspected that if she returned the sum, the siblings would keep it for themselves and there was probably little good that would be done with it then. 

Phillip promised to deliver the letters to the hotel before the other Wheelers left in the morning. He helped her into the carriage to take her home. “They’re not my brother and sister,” Anne said drowsily. The tea was working almost too well. 

“I know,” he said.

She leaned against him. Her head fit easily against his shoulder. “And I don’t have to forgive him.” 

Anne was already asleep when he answered. 

Phillip helped her exchange the cash for a bank note, and Penelope was enlisted to accompany her to the asylum one morning to deliver it. Upon hearing of the errand, Josephine and Lilian insisted that they take Thalia along to cheer up the orphans. 

Before handing over the bank note or disclosing the sum, Penelope asked for a tour of the building. A young woman who told them that she was in charge of teaching the older girls sewing showed them around to the rooms where the children slept, their classrooms, the infirmary, the kitchen where children helped prepare each of the meals when they were old enough. They were shown the meeting house where everyone gathered for worship on Sunday. 

Anne was not sure what they were looking for, but she nodded along and listened when Penelope asked questions about the children’s lessons, diet, and care. She also inquired about the types of jobs the children were prepared for. Anne wanted to know if the children ever went on excursions. 

“Oh no,” Miss Proctor exclaimed. “But they have time outdoors.” 

Anne wondered if they might enjoy attending a circus. The young woman smiled. “Good luck convincing Mrs. Settle of that.” 

When they passed the doors to the meadow behind the building, Penelope asked if they might pause the tour to give the dog a chance to relieve herself. Miss Proctor agreed and waited inside while Anne and Penelope stepped out. 

“What do you think?” Anne asked quietly, once they were beyond earshot, allowing Thalia some slack in her leash in case she did have an urge. 

“It all appears to be a very trim operation,” Penelope confirmed. “I’ll have a few more questions for Mrs. Settle, but I don’t see anything amiss. More importantly, what do you think?”

Anne told her that she was happy with everything that she heard, especially that the children were encouraged in jobs suitable to their strengths and every attempt was made to provide additional opportunities to students who showed exceptional talent. 

They returned inside and finished their tour with Miss Proctor who left them in the nursery. Giggling and squealing, the children took turns petting and hugging Thalia. She adored the attention and even tried to wash one of the little girls who toddled over to pat her nose. 

Anne observed the children while they played with the puppy. Although plain, their clothing was well made and of decent material. They were all clean and looked fed if a little skinny. 

The puppy was as reluctant to leave the children as they were to see her go, but the women still had to meet with the asylum’s headmistress before they returned to the city in time for Anne to make it to the circus. 

Both Penelope and Anne were pleased with the strict but kindly Mrs. Settle and at the end of the meeting presented her with the bank note. She thanked them and asked whose name the donation was being made in. 

“It’s in memory of my mother, Esther Wheeler,” Anne told her. If the woman was surprised that the gift was hers and not Penelope’s, she said nothing. 

The older children had some time to play with Thalia, offering her balls of yarn and strings of ribbon to chase, before they had to go. This group enjoyed her just as much as the younger children and were as sad to see her leave. Thalia whined and strained at her leash in protest until Anne had to pick her up and carry her out. Still, the dog wriggled around in her hold until she could watch the children waving from the doorway of their work room.    


In the carriage, with the puppy curled heavily in her lap, Anne thanked the other woman for bringing her.

Penelope beamed. “Thank you for thinking of me to accompany you. And I’ll have to tell the girls that Thalia was so wonderful today.” The puppy perked a sleepy ear at her name. Anne scratched it and felt a happy tail wag against her lap.

At Phillip’s house, his sisters asked eagerly about their morning. Lilian was glad to learn that Thalia had made so many friends among the orphans, and Josephine wanted to know if Penelope would let her bring the dog on one of their charity visits. The girls begged a final treat from their brother, kissed Anne’s cheeks goodbye, and scrambled into the carriage with Penelope.     

“Now I understand why the wealthy have their names on so many buildings,” she told Phillip when he returned from waving his sisters and friend off. “Knowing what that money will do for the children feels so wonderful. I don’t feel its weight anymore. Maybe one day, I’ll tell WD about it. When he’s had some time to calm down.” 

Phillip laughed and pinched her jaw affectionately. “That’s not why they put their names on buildings, dove, but your intentions are far more genuine than theirs. Come on before you’re late.”

Anne rode quietly, thinking that her mother, wherever she was, would be glad to know that WD made sure his little sister understood that her decision to leave them had been made only out of love. She hoped her mother never worried that Anne was bitter or angry. It was far from likely that Esther Wheeler would ever go to the New York asylum to look for her missing babies, but if she did in the future, she would see that her babies remembered and honored her and looked out for the other children whose parents had to leave them. 

In the end, some good could come from meeting the other Wheelers. Anne had only one regret. WD looked like his father. And now she knew that she looked like hers. That was why WD could not remember what their mother looked like. There was nothing to remind him.  



	15. To go would cost me greatly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!! Thank you, thank you for sticking with me all the way here and for your wonderful and thoughtful comments! Honestly, this chapter was so intimidating to write because so much of this story has been building to this moment, and I am so afraid of coming up short given your patience, investment, and faith. But here it is. Also I couldn't decide how I wanted to incorporate the songs into the piece. But I have to let it go, let it go, can't hold it back anymore. Sorry. Wrong musical. Get ready to tune spotify/itunes/youtube to Never Enough and This Is Me! 
> 
> To those of you who are like okay girlie (have I mentioned I'm a girl?) I'm trying to stick this out but when you gonna wrap this baby up, I promise it's coming soon! Just like the movie, there's a relatively long break between The Other Side and Never Enough and then all of a sudden it's boom song boom another song boom another song boom the end. 
> 
> Finally, before people point it out, and slight but not ruinous spoiler alert here, I KNOW that Loren Allred's "Never Enough" is performed entirely in the alto range. But I made Jenny Lind a soprano in this chapter. Just giving you a heads up so you don't think I made a mistake or failed music. If you care to know why, you can check out my end note.

As fall drew on, Phillip thanked God every day that Anne had not walked away. Having her by his side was the only thing keeping him sane while Barnum became more and more distracted by the impending stateside arrival of Jenny Lind. His partner was exacting and demanding that everything be perfect for the Swedish Nightingale’s American debut, even down to hosting a champagne reception afterward. However, with no experience carrying off such a high profile event, PT leaned heavily on Phillip’s expertise.

By November, Barnum turned over his full ringmaster responsibilities to Phillip in spite of the younger man’s protests.

“What do you mean you don’t want to do it now?” Barnum called over his shoulder as Phillip chased after him up the stairwell to their offices. “What have the last months been before then? And you’ll get paid!”

Phillip did not bother to remind his partner that he did not need the money. He followed the man into his office and closed the door behind them. “PT, will you listen to me for two seconds?” he demanded angrily.

Barnum pulled a poster out of the stack of them on his desk and held it up. “Do you think the color on this is too washed out?”

“No. You want softer colors.” Realizing he had been distracted, Phillip redirected. “The troupe already thinks you’ve forgotten them for Jenny Lind. Making me ringmaster is only going to make that worse.”

Barnum rolled up the poster. “I think I need to go back to the printer and talk to him. This looks too dull. And they like you. Tell them it’s just temporary.” He spun his hat onto his head and managed to put on his coat one handed in a blink. “I’ll be back if they miss me that much.” He grinned and strode past Phillip through the door, leaving his partner disgruntled in his wake.

As Barnum had suggested, Phillip told everyone he was standing in only temporarily as ringmaster. That quieted some of the grumbling, but he could sense that everyone was still on edge.

“This is the only home they know,” Anne explained with a sigh when he complained about it to her. She sat on the couch in his library, squeezing a ball in her hand. It was an exercise she did to strengthen her grip, but Phillip found the gesture alternately tantalizing and painful. He moved closer to the heat of the fireplace to hide his blush at the thoughts going through his head. “They’re just worried that if she’s a success, he’ll forget about the circus altogether,” she was saying, completely oblivious to his reaction. “And we’ll lose the one home we’ve found.”

“Is that what you think?”

A fierce look came over Anne’s face. “I know you wouldn’t let him do that without a fight.” The expression cleared and a smile spread over her face. “I don’t get to say this often, but Phillip, stop worrying. You’ve done all you can for now. We all see it.”

It was true, she did not get to say that often. Usually, she was the one worrying herself to exhaustion. He felt some of the tension ease in his shoulders.

“Maybe there is a way to make everyone feel included in the concert,” she suggested. “That way they won’t feel so pushed to the side.”

Phillip went to drop down beside her on the couch. “Anne you’re a genius.” An idea was forming in his head. Something simple but meaningful. He would suggest that Barnum invite the troupe to see Jenny’s opening night performance. Even with a full house, there would still be plenty of space.

“I wouldn’t go as far as genius,” she teased. “You should be careful of flattering me too much. My head might get too big to lift off the ground.”

He took a stray curl and twirled it around his finger before tucking it away. Her eyes tracked his movement hungrily. “There are definitely people who ought to worry about that,” he said softly. “You are not one of them.” He moved away then, unable to stand being so close to her any longer.

Before she left for the evening, Crispin came to the library so that she could massage his aching hands. The cold weather’s arrival meant the return of his pain and cramping. There were techniques that Tirza had taught her that helped ease it. Phillip watched the process with interest. He had bought his valet every remedy they could find, but none came close to what Anne could do with the press of her fingers.

The two of them leaned together and talked while she worked. He was bemused by the friendship that had sprung up between them. His valet was known for being a man of few words, but he went out of his way to speak to Anne. Of all his servants, Crispin was the only one who treated her as he had any other woman Phillip had shown special attention to or they thought he paid special attention to.

Phillip was in the habit of giving Christmas bonuses. He would double Crispin’s usual one and maybe add a few days off.

The next day he suggested to Barnum that they invite the troupe to the concert. Charity sat in her husband’s desk chair drawing a princess according to her daughters’ specifications. At the moment, the girls could not agree on whether her hair should be up or down. She looked up at the suggestion. It was clear she thought it a good idea. Phillip was glad she would be on his side if his partner needed persuading.

However, that was not the case. Barnum, standing over his desk reviewing Phillip's most recent accounting report, snapped his fingers, “Wonderful idea, Phillip! You’ll make the announcement before tonight’s show?”

“I was thinking you could make it,” Phillip replied doggedly. "It would be better coming from you."

The man shook his head. “Miss Lind arrives this afternoon. I’m supposed to meet her at the dock.” He glanced at Charity. “Sorry, dear, I forgot to tell you.”

A rare frown furrowed his wife's face. “Phineas is that really necessary? I’m sure she can find her way to her hotel on her own,” she protested. “She will probably want to refresh before she sees any of us anyway. She's had a long journey.”

Caroline paused in her argument with her sister to look up, first from their mother and then to their father. Charity’s voice contained an unusual tiredness and hint of exasperation.

“Charity, this is her first time in America. Of course, it’s necessary. I’ve promised her the best.” He turned back to his partner ignoring the upset look on his wife’s face if he noticed it at all. “So I won’t be able to tell them.”  

Phillip was not letting him off that easy. “Everyone will be here shortly. You can make the announcement before you leave.”

Barnum clicked his tongue impatiently. “I have enough on my plate without--”

“And this circus is still one of those things on your plate,” Phillip snapped, at the end of his patience with Barnum’s distraction. Helen stared at him wide-eyed. Phillip reined in his temper. “At least act like you care.” Not waiting for the man’s retort, he stomped out of the office. The circus had given Barnum everything he had. The least he could do was remember the people who built it for him.

Phillip was reviewing the dancers’ latest choreography when Barnum came up beside him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted,” he said contritely. “It’s just. This is a big deal. I staked a lot on this.”

Without removing his eyes from the dancers, Phillip replied, “The swells, they don’t believe in self-made men. Don’t let them fool you PT.”

Barnum laughed nervously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t buy a ticket that’s not for sale.” He glanced at his partner. “So you have to ask yourself how you will be happy if they never give you what you want.”

His companion was silent for long moments, hands on his hips. Phillip made a note to tell Cassie and Caesar, a man whose white locs contrasted sharply against his dark skin, to tighten their footwork.

“Fine,” Barnum said at last. “I’ll tell them.”

Phillip did not bother to look over this time. “Good.”

The troupe, as Anne guessed, was elated to be invited to the special evening. Barnum’s announcement was met with cheers and a round of applause, which he accepted as if the whole thing had his been his idea. Phillip let it go.

“We don’t have to wear costumes, do we?” WD asked amid the excitement.

Phillip spoke up before his partner could. “No, no costumes. Just your best.” He glanced at Anne and thought he saw a hint of pride on her face. It made his heart swell.

How Barnum could have forgotten to mention to his wife that he would be accompanying Jenny Lind from the pier to her hotel escaped Phillip. Two triumphal arches had been erected along the route, which conveniently and quite intentionally, was just north of the circus. Anyone who gathered for a first glimpse and greeting from the Swedish Nightingale could drift down to the circus for a continued evening of excitement.

For weeks, Barnum had been running ads in every New York City paper comparing the event of Miss Lind’s arrival to the frenzy that had surrounded the delivery of Dickens’s final chapter of _The Old Curiosity Shop_ to America. Thousands of readers desperate to learn the fate of Little Nell had swarmed the docks begging the sailors from England to reveal what they knew. He “let slip” to a reporter the location of her hotel and hoped that those who feared they would not see her at the pier would gather at her accommodations. This was an event of the century not to be missed.

Phillip wondered what Jenny would think of it all when she landed. Few if any of the people who would come out to greet her would have the opportunity to see her perform. Barnum had stretched Phillip’s advice to create something everyone wanted but few could have to near breaking point.

As the afternoon wore on, Phillip tried to get everyone to focus but eventually gave up. More than half the troupe drifted up the street toward the noise of the crowd gathering at Broadway and Chambers. Anne and WD were among the few who remained behind.

Charity emerged from backstage and crossed the ring on her way out, her small face pale and unreadable. She clutched Caroline's hand on one side and Helen's on the other. The youngest waved as they passed him. “We’re going to see Miss Lind!” Helen exclaimed. “Wanna come?”

"Please?" added Caroline. Their mother paused to wait for his answer, her expression easing some.

Phillip was about to say no but thought better of it and instead promised Helen a place on his shoulders so that she could see. They joined the steady stream of people moving uptown and found a spot where they would be able to see the singer no matter which balcony she emerged on. Partner, wife, and children waited and then watched as Barnum’s latest marvel greeted her adoring crowd. The pride on the ringmaster's face as he stood in the doorway behind the Swedish woman was clear even from where they stood. Phillip knew exactly how the troupe felt about being forgotten. They had always given Barnum the spotlight. But theirs might no longer be enough. Jenny Lind was his new jewel.

That evening, Phillip took a hansom to visit his parents. They had not cared a wit about his work over the last year until they learned that he was partially responsible for bringing the famous Swedish Nightingale to perform in New York. His mother had immediately begged him for tickets, which he decided to deliver in person.

Ever since Anne had become a regular presence at his home, he made sure to visit his parents almost weekly. Mrs. Carlyle stayed away when he came to her, and he wanted to discourage her from making any unannounced calls.

Thalia was the first to greet him, leaping up to place her paws against his thighs for a good scratch. She was growing quickly and would not look like a puppy much longer. He obliged her begging and was rewarded with delighted yips. He learned that both of his parents were out but would return in time for supper. Phillip decided to stay instead of leaving the tickets for them.

His sisters were delighted to have him all to themselves for once. He could hardly believe that they would be turning twelve soon. Already they were shedding their childish antics: Lilian’s transforming into flirtatiousness, and Josephine’s giving way to a sensitive, intense young woman with a hint of humor in the corners of her mouth.

Byron Carlyle was in an especially pleasant mood that evening. Phillip wondered if his father saw his presentation of Jenny Lind as the possible beginning of a return to his former life. His mother thanked him profusely for the tickets, delighted that she had acquired such wonderful seats while her friends struggled even to get in.

“I wish you could have seen the look on Irene’s face when I told her we were to be your guests,” Mrs. Carlyle gloated, sitting back as she was served a generous portion of the roasted pheasant they were having for supper. “She has not stopped making jabs at you for joining--,” she caught herself, glancing sideways at the twins to see whether they noticed. Since both knew the secret their parents were trying to keep about Phillip’s involvement in the circus, they appeared entirely oblivious of the slip. “At you for your recent endeavor. And now she is missing the event of the season that even the Winthrops will be attending! Do you have any extra tickets, dear? I want to offer her a pair and watch her chew the flavor of her words.”

Phillip was about to reply that he would not stoop to a frivolous feud when he thought of all his parents must have endured as word spread through their social circle that their son had fallen in with a charlatan upstart. His once constant stream of invitations had long ago dried up. Had people drifted away from his mother and father for the choice their son had made? They had never mentioned it, but he had never thought to ask. Phillip sighed. The least he could do was give his mother some satisfaction.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. His mother beamed.

After drinks with his father, Phillip arrived home late that night. Never before had his house struck him as so unusually quiet and still. The nature of his relationship with Anne meant that they had broken nearly all rules of courtship, at least those of his class, in their hours of unchaperoned time together. He knew that aside from the circus and the room she shared with her friends, his house had become one of the few places where Anne felt comfortable to be herself, for the most part, and as importantly for them to be.

There were so many times that he had wished he could take advantage of the exceptions they had made. Anne with her guard down was effortlessly elegant though casual. Her presence was quiet but lingering. A simple twitch of her nose, a blink, even a scratch were achingly sensual. She was well aware of her allure in the ring. But outside of it, he could never be sure she knew how enticing she was.

The thought that he might one day come home to her, taste the lips that teased his dreams, and partake in the secrets of her lithe form nearly overwhelmed him. Sheepishly he glanced around and was grateful to find himself alone.

Jenny Lind, according to _The New York Herald_ the next morning, had received a welcome worthy of a queen. Nearly 40,000 people had lined the piers, rooftops, windows, and streets to watch her ship the _Atlantic_ approach its berth. Hundreds of white roses were flung into the water so that it looked as if the ship sailed through a cloud. Barnum had not waited for her ship to arrive ashore but instead had someone row him out to it while it was still in the harbor. He had accompanied Miss Lind to the Irving Hotel where Phillip, Charity, and the girls had seen the opera singer appear on her balcony to wave to the crowd cheering her below.

Phillip folded the paper up with a sigh. Barnum was getting everything he wanted and more. Jenny Lind's run in America was stacking up to be a sensation.

With a week until the opening performance, he found himself rushing from the concert hall to the circus and back, advising Barnum in one arena and filling in for him in the other. His time with Anne became confined to glances in passing and brief smiles. He nearly forgot to drop off the tickets that he had promised his mother.

So much was riding on the success of the debut. Barnum had promised her a ridiculous sum to entice her across the Atlantic, which meant that to keep the circus afloat and the bank happy, they would have to sell out nearly every New York performance. With the singer, Barnum was solicitous and attentive. His strain showed in his curt and absent-minded responses to everyone else.

“Where do you keep running off to?” he snapped at Phillip two evenings before the opening. “We’re trying to finish the lighting, and I don’t know a damn thing about it. I need you here.” He pointed at the floor of the hall for emphasis.

They were standing among the seats watching Jenny who was waiting patiently on stage while the lighting engineer adjusted the fill light around her. A jumpy looking young man stood in her wake, waiting to mark each of her final positions with chalk.   

Phillip took a breath. “PT, we still have a circus.”

“We might not have one if we don’t pull this off,” Barnum reminded him under his breath. “They can run the show without a ringmaster for a few nights. Send word you’re staying here.”

“Just tell the engineer to lower the blue light,” Phillip protested. “We can’t both abandon our responsibilities.”

The taller man looked over sternly. “No one’s abandoning anything. I’ve just shifted the priority for now. And stop worrying all the time. Everyone will be fine without us.”

“PT--,”

Barnum threw up his hands. “Fine! If you’re going to whine about being here all night go on. But I want you here tomorrow night.” 

“Fine!” Phillip yanked up his hat and coat from the chair he had thrown them over and stomped out. Barnum was becoming increasingly careless about the people around him in his desperate bid for the upper echelon’s approval. He was shunting aside everyone who had stood by him and believed in him, and Phillip was nearing the end of his patience.

His agitation had cooled by the time he reached the circus. Whatever his frustration with his partner, he did not want to appear divided before the troupe. He explained to them the arrangements for the next two nights. Instead of the ringmaster’s opening, they would start and finish with the full ensemble numbers they had been practicing. Anne would not be in the air but on the ground. It was supposed to feel as if the performers were all welcoming and bidding farewell to the audience.

“So you’re too good for us now too?” Charles accused from where he leaned against the first row of benches. “Got a shiny new toy. Or bird I should say.”

Before Phillip could defend himself, Anne spoke up. “Cut it out. You know it’s not him.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort, but Lettie, sitting beside him, slammed her hand over it, nearly knocking the little man over. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear. The others shifted uncomfortably. Charles was not alone in his thinking. Anne glared around, challenging anyone else to voice their opinion of Phillip. WD rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder, whether to calm her or back her up, Phillip was not sure. 

The two women’s intervention was enough to silence any further complaints. However, the entire show that evening was laced with tension. Phillip felt like an intruder throughout and almost wished he had given into Barnum and stayed at the concert hall.

Anne and Lettie found him in his office afterward. He sat slumped in his chair idly tilting his drink and watching it slide from side to side.

“They know it’s not you,” Lettie said, dropping heavily into one of his armchairs. “But they can’t take it out on him.” Anne came around his desk and stilled his hand with hers. He glanced up. The gentleness he had seen in her face the day he said he wanted to marry her was there. Phillip released his glass to her.

“I’m doing everything I can,” he confessed helplessly, tiredly.

“We know,” Anne soothed. “Everyone sees it.”

“I’m not sure it’s enough.”

“So what if it’s not?” Lettie asked, shrugging. “We all had lives before this. We’ll find a way without it.”

Phillip looked up at the woman he loved. He knew the circus had become her home, the people she worked with her family. Inside these walls, among these people, she possessed a freedom she found nowhere else. If he failed, she would lose all of that. And not just her. Lettie, Charles, all the others the world had chosen to ridicule or pretend did not exist, had found acceptance here too.

Anne touched her free hand to his cheek. “Remember, you can’t fix everything. Like Lettie said, we’ll find a way without it if need be.” She quickly drew away and returned his glass to the cart of alcohol.

Phillip had to fight to pull his eyes away from her. The amused, smug expression on Lettie’s face showed she noticed. He wrinkled his nose eliciting a chuckle from her. “We knew you’d come up here feeling sorry for yourself, Carlyle. But you can’t do all of Barnum’s soul searching for him.”

“Thank you,” he told them, feeling far better than he had when he poured himself the whiskey.

Shortly after, they bade him goodnight and left. Phillip pushed himself out of his chair and retrieved his glass from where Anne had left it on the cart. He raised it in a mock toast. “To the circus and Anne,” he said aloud and sipped.

The morning of Jenny Lind’s debut, Phillip woke far more nervous than he had expected. He had not let himself think about it, but if anything went wrong, he and Barnum would be the laughing stock of the city. And everyone would be there to see it. His parents, their friends, Penny. To wear off some of his anxious energy he took the twins on a hike through Central Park. Thalia broke free of her leash to chase a cluster of birds, leading the girls and Phillip on a wild chase that left Lilian bruised, Josephine with a nasty scrape and tear in her hose, and their brother winded and in very deep trouble with their mother. 

Despite the misadventure, he arrived at the concert hall that evening with plenty of time to spare. He met Barnum backstage to be sure Jenny was in her green room preparing for her performance. Satisfied that there were people to attend to her every need, he wished her well, and went upstairs to check the stage.

Clyde, the portly stage manager who had worked on several of Phillip’s own productions, had everything well in hand. One of the ushers beckoned Phillip away from the stage. “There's a group says they’re here at Mr. Barnum’s invitation,” he explained pompously. “A rather...odd assortment.”

“Yes,” Phillip said pointedly. “They’re our guests. Let me find out where Mr. Barnum wants them seated.”

The usher did not look happy at the confirmation that the people he meant to turn away were in fact welcome. Phillip ignored him and went to find Barnum.

His partner was peering through the edge of the curtain, watching as the seats beyond filled with the who’s who of New York. The orchestra was warming up creating a low, melodic hum beneath the buzz of voices. “What’s taking her so long?” Barnum demanded when Phillip came up beside him. Jenny was supposed to have taken the stage a few minutes before, but as she and everyone but Barnum knew, the opera was a place people came to be seen. Who was there was as important as who was not, and there was never too much time spent taking full account of these details. It was a ritual that had always annoyed Phillip. 

“They’re still taking their seats,” Phillip assured him. “Speaking of which,” he continued, hoping to draw his partner’s attention away from the house.

“Yeah?” Barnum said distractedly while his eyes roved over the crowd.

“Tom and Lettie, the others, they’ve just arrived.”

Barnum swung around. “What?” he asked.

“Where should I put them?” Phillip prompted. “Your box?”

His partner’s forehead creased in thought. “That box?” he muttered. “No, no, no, that’s a bit visible.”

Phillip was taken aback. “Visible?” Everyone knew how Barnum had risen to prominence. What would it matter for the troupe to be seated in his box at this point?

“The acoustics are actually better in the standing room,” his partner reasoned. Phillip’s eyes narrowed. They both had listened to the rehearsal from every part of the hall and that was not true. Worse, Barnum had to know that he knew it was a lie. “That’s where they should be.”

“Miss Lind’s ready now,” Clyde called.

“Okay. Thank you, thank God!” Barnum leapt back from the curtain and hurried off after him, giving Phillip no chance to argue. He returned to the usher.

“Show them to the standing room section,” he instructed. The man nodded as if this were the best arrangement given the circumstances and went away to do as instructed. Phillip tugged at his bow tie. It suddenly felt suffocating. He would be glad when this show was over and everything could go back to normal.

With Jenny Lind now in position on stage and the orchestra beginning its final tuning, Phillip was no longer needed backstage. From here on out everything was up to Barnum. There was a ticket in his pocket that was supposed to be for the seat next to his parents’. He thought of Anne, Lettie, and the others forced to stand alone in the balcony. His place was with them. Phillip took one of the backstairs to the top floor and slipped past the surprised usher at the door.

Through the archway, he could see Anne standing at the front of the group, her back rigid. She was wearing the blue butterfly gown he had bought her in London. With everything that happened with Aurora the night Anne first wore it, he had had little chance to admire it on her. Now he took his time approaching her, breathlessly taking in how well it complimented her figure at every angle. She was stunning right up to the small, feathered hat she wore to complete the ensemble.

He crept between Constantine and WD to slide into the space at her side. Anne glanced over at him before her eyes returned to the stage. Although she hid it well, he could tell that she was surprised by his presence. There was little doubt from the expression on her face that she surmised they had been brought here to be put out of the way.

The orchestra went silent when Barnum came through the curtain. He stood, lonely and small in the spotlight. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your patience.” Whispers and snickers broke out in the audience. Phillip had tried to warn him that a greeting for such an event was unnecessary and even inadvisable in his case. Still, he had insisted.

Barnum hesitated and glanced toward where his wife sat. Seeming to gather his courage, he returned to his address. “I recently had the privilege of hearing the most divine voice I’ve ever heard." The snide comments and snickering were louder. "Now, I know that sounds like Barnum humbug, but I have 100 bottles of champagne on ice that says this isn’t just another sideshow novelty.”

Phillip winced as the laughter in the audience shifted in Barnum’s favor at the expense of his circus performers. Beside him, Anne lifted her chin, although her face maintained its cool, aloof mask.

“May I present the Swedish Nightingale Miss Jenny Lind.” Barnum swept his arm out to eager applause. He disappeared back into the curtain and the concert hall went dark.

Then the curtain and spotlight rose on Jenny Lind. The auburn-haired singer stood center stage angelic, regal, and enigmatic in a voluminous ivory skirt and jacket. Her beaded and pearled bodice winked and shone in the lights. As the piano began its accompaniment, she scanned the room, her eyes drifting all the way up to the very top boxes. 

Though he had heard her sing in rehearsal after rehearsal, Phillip was still not prepared. His stomach swooped when the first notes emerged from her lips. The pure force of the beauty of her soprano was nearly enough to bring him to his knees. But she had such control and the lightest touch that instead it lifted and enveloped him.

Anne’s mask shattered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She swallowed. Almost imperceptibly, Phillip reached out until their pinkies brushed one another. He glanced over at her again. She stiffened and exhaled sharply at the contact. As Jenny’s voice gathered momentum, soaring over them, he folded his fingers firmly through hers. Anne hesitated. And then she took his hand, her fingers closing tightly over his, agreeing at last to share the moment with him.

If there had ever been a time in his life when he felt so whole, so sure of who he was, Jenny’s voice and Anne’s hand locked in his swept every memory of it away. He had searched in many places to find himself, but it had never been enough. Never enough until Anne came into his life challenging all the things he had taken for granted.

The music swelled as Jenny delivered her heart to the audience, laying bare in the height of her soprano the notes of her longing and conviction. Everyone seemed to be holding his breath, overwhelmed and afraid to disturb the dream that she was spinning for them. Phillip wanted it to never end. He wished that, somehow, he could hold onto this moment, hold onto this feeling as long as he could.

It was not to be. A movement in his peripheral vision imploded his fantasy. Phillip went cold. In his haste and distraction, he had failed to note where his parents were sitting. And there was his father leaning over the back of his mother’s chair, eyes locked on them, on his hand twined through Anne’s. Barely controlled fury tightened every muscle in his father’s face. He whispered into wife’s ear. Phillip’s eyes pleaded for him to stop, to keep what he saw to himself for now. He could take his father’s anger but not his mother’s pain. It was too late. Agnes Carlyle turned toward Phillip. Disbelief turned to anguish. Her gloved hand rose to the gold rail beside her as she tried to make sense of what she saw.

Here, in view of all her friends, before everyone and everything that mattered to her, her son was betraying who he was, at least who she believed him to be. His mother started to rise, but his father tugged her back. Their agitation was causing others to look around for its source. Phillip let Anne’s hand slip from his. If anyone else saw, the word of the night would not be about Jenny Lind but that Phillip Carlyle, oldest of Byron and Agnes Carlyle, had been seen among a group of circus folk holding the hand of a colored woman. The enormity of what they faced finally hit him. 

Phillip could feel Anne’s eyes on him as he stared resolutely ahead until his parents and those in their vicinity settled down. He could not bring himself to look at her anyway. It was partly true that he was trying to protect her from his parents’ wrath. They would blame her before they blamed him. And they knew exactly where to find her. At least that is what he desperately wanted to believe. He swallowed, sick to his stomach. Deep down he knew the truth. Penny had warned him before he left for England that if he was not careful he would betray Anne or his parents. Tonight he betrayed all of them. He had truly believed he could have it all. And he knew now, too late, he was wrong. So very wrong.

If Anne had not thought him a coward before, then she did now. She lingered, waiting. His eyes burned with tears he refused to let fall. Sorry would never be enough for what he had just done to her, for what he was doing. But he could not explain right now. There was no time, no way while his parents watched, to explain that caught up in the music, he had made a huge, thoughtless mistake, one much like the one she had warned him about on the ship. Anne turned away. Her footsteps on the marble floor rang in his ears, drowning out the music, first slow and then faster until she was gone.

He looked over at his parents. His mother’s fingers were splayed across her chest, and she hunched forward as if in pain. Anyone watching would believe her moved by the performance below, but he knew better. She was trying desperately to hold herself together. His father’s arm around her was as much a gesture of comfort as it was a demand for her discretion. She knew as well as her son that an ultimatum was coming, one that would force him to choose between the life his parents wanted for him and what he wanted. She was afraid for him. Probably as afraid as she was angry or disappointed.  

That realization brought sudden and awful clarity. Phillip finally understood why Anne had so insistently pulled away. It was not because she did not want to love him but because she had never wanted him to have to choose between her and his family. Isn't that what she had said in his stateroom? _I've been afraid of making you choose_. Not only had she seen this coming from the very beginning, she had known, even better than he, what it would cost him. So she had made it all too clear the choice he should make both before and tonight. He was supposed to choose his family. As he knew she would. He knew her well enough by now to know that would be the only fair thing to do in her mind. Anne loved him enough to put him before herself, enough to let him go, but not with such abandon that she would let him compromise her dignity.

Phillip felt numb as Jenny’s last note faded to wild applause and a standing ovation. He stared out over the crowd. All of this before him, he would give it all up for Anne. It was meaningless without her. Was it fate or stupidity that he might have lost her to learn that? Without a word to anyone, no longer caring what his parents or anyone thought, Phillip left.

Until he emerged from the concert hall, part of him held onto a shred of hope that he might find Anne waiting for him. To see that he had come after her. He jogged around the building. She was gone.

Phillip sank down onto the stairs at the side door and buried his face in his hands. The cold burned his exposed skin. Snow began to fall, brushing his neck and hands with phantom kisses.

“Do you always lick your wounds at the stage door? It still seems rather public.” He looked up. Penelope stood over him wrapped hastily in her fur. “Never mind for now. Your father is looking for you, and that’s a meeting none of us wants to happen right now. Come on.”

Without protest or questions, Phillip rose and followed her. She led him to her waiting carriage and instructed the driver to be sure to drop them at the circus within the hour but not too much before. “Charles is taking a hansom home,” she explained to Phillip, as if he had thought to ask. “Hurry up. Help me in before your father thinks to come out here.” He handed her up and then climbed in behind her. Ever cautious, Penelope hastily drew the curtains as the carriage pulled away from the curb.

Settled inside, she pulled a blanket over her lap. She hated the cold. His mother thought it was because she had fallen through a patch of ice on a lake as a child. They sat across from one another. She watched him while he stared at his lap, searching for the words to explain what he had done.

“Do you care to explain why your father stormed out of a beautiful concert in search of you?” she prompted gently when he did not speak. “Or should we start with why you were sitting outside instead of inside reveling in your moment of triumph?”

Phillip cleared his throat. It felt so raw. “They saw me holding Anne’s hand.” That seemed like the right place to start.

His friend let out a deep sigh and sank back against the bench. “I suppose they had to find out sometime. Or somehow,” she said tentatively.

“I let her go Penny.” His voice broke at last. He could barely breathe around the pain in his chest. “I messed up.”

“Oh Phillip.” Penelope threw off the blanket and shifted to his side of the carriage. Her arms went around him, and she held him as a sister would. Fur tickled his face, but her lavender scent was soothing. 

Except for the creaks and squeaks of the carriage traveling over the pitted streets of the city, it was quiet. If she judged him, she kept it to herself. She held him for a long while. “You were right,” he said finally, pulling away from her. “And I didn’t listen.”

Penelope set about drawing back the curtains now that they were no longer in danger of being seen. “Right about what?” she asked solemnly. In all honesty, everything. But mostly right about the decision he had spent too long avoiding.

“That I have to make a choice. And sacrifices,” Phillip told her. “I want to choose Anne.”

She turned away from the window to grip his forearm. “You’ll figure out a way,” Penelope promised.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me? What I did to her tonight...” he trailed off, no longer able to talk around the knot in his throat. He had humiliated Anne. They had come so far only for him to fall when it mattered most.

In the passing glow of the street lamps, Penelope’s face grew thoughtful. “Were you in her shoes, would you forgive yourself?”

That was a painful question. As understanding as she was, his friend could also be unrelenting. His first inclination was to answer yes because that is what he desperately wanted from Anne. But recalling all of the fears she had confessed to him and knowing that he had realized every one of them tonight, yes was not what he deserved. “I’m not sure I would,” Phillip admitted.

It caught him off guard when Penelope smiled wryly. “Good. Remember that when you ask for her forgiveness. You cannot expect someone to forgive something you would not be able to forgive yourself.” With those words of advice, she moved back to the other bench and drew her blanket over her lap again. Phillip stared out the window at the passing city, mostly to avoid the pained sympathy with which his friend watched him.

They did not speak again until her carriage stopped at the corner across from the circus. It had not pulled up in front because protesters holding signs demanding a boycott of the circus and telling the “freaks” that they were not welcome lined the sidewalk outside.

“Thank you,” he told Penelope. “I’m sorry you missed the rest of the concert.”

"Try to get us another pair of tickets?" She tried to tease him, but her heart was not in it.

He lifted his lips in what he intended to be a smile. “I will.”

Before her driver opened the door for him, she quickly leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “You have a good heart, Phillip. Even Anne has seen that.”

Their hands clasped before he stepped out of the carriage, and then she was gone. Phillip stared up at the building before him. That evening’s performance had already started, which meant that Anne was definitely inside. He squared his shoulders and crossed the street, for once ignoring the throng of hecklers. He no longer cared about them. Despair could be oddly liberating, he thought wretchedly.

It was too late to talk to Anne, but he went in anyway. From the arena, Lettie’s powerful belt and the troupe’s harmonies rose over the audience's voices. Tonight it had joined in the singing, clapping along.

Phillip climbed the stairs to his office. He stopped just inside as a sense of Anne’s presence overwhelmed him. Here he had brought her after her encounter with the street car driver. He had defended her against the police when against her wishes, he had called them and they had refused to listen to her. And she had rewarded his efforts with a piece of her mind. In this room, she had made the first tentative steps toward him. This was where she first told him of all the pain that made up her past and where he witnessed for himself the truth of its ugliness and her resilience despite it.

Only the other night, she had come here to comfort him. To remind him that he could not fix everything.

Phillip went to the window that overlooked the ring. Below Anne was immediately recognizable in her pink wig as she danced among everyone else. Every motion was defiant and proud, and when she caught sight of him watching, her face filled with anger. This was who she was. She knew where she stood. Where did he?

He would not be able to fix everything. But he would try with everything he had to make up for what he’d done to her. If she’d let him. If she gave him one last chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So why is Jenny Lind a soprano??? First and most obviously, Jenny Lind was a soprano IRL. Second, the movie's choice isn't that big of a deal (who the heck listens to opera these days anyway???) but I grew up listening to my aunt who's an accomplished opera singer so when Jenny Lind is described as one, I have explicit expectations for what comes out of her mouth. Loren Allred's performance is breathtakingly powerful, but every time I watch the movie, I can't help but go, okay this is really good but it's not opera. YOU SAID OPERA! It's kind of distracting unless I'm re-watching 10 second blips to capture the scene in writing. Anyway, in my head Jenny Lind sounds like my aunt. And finally, I like that opera as a form underscores as much as the words of the song the major class clashes going on in the scene. Anyway my two cents you can feel free to completely ignore/trash.


	16. It was hopeless after all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly or shamefully, I live (okay, less dramatically, write) for your kudos and comments, so thank you. Hope you continue to enjoy this story! 
> 
> Two weeks ago, on the day that I posted the last chapter, I found out that one of the most influential teachers in my life passed away. He was also my friend's dad. His creative writing class was legendary at our school, and I was fortunate enough to be one of his students after waiting six years to take his class. I've thought of him often as I've written this story. There were hundreds of people at his memorial service this weekend because of how much and how selflessly he gave to so many. That giving had a price. He was so much more than a teacher. The best way I can think to remember him is to encourage anyone who has ever had a teacher who touched their life in an important way to reach out and let that teacher know what they meant. Teachers are heroes who don't always get to see or know the fruits of their deeds.

Phillip was almost home that night when a figure at the corner flagged him down, running alongside the carriage until he got the driver and Phillip’s attention. He called for the driver to stop and opened the door. To his surprise, it was Crispin who waited for him.

“It’s freezing,” Phillip admonished, thinking immediately of his valet’s hands. “What are you doing out here?”

“It’s your father. He’s at the house.”

Phillip sighed grimly and climbed out. He paid the driver and joined Crispin on foot. They were but a few houses down from his. “How long have you been out here?” he asked.

“Not long,” the other man assured him. “He was pounding at the door. I tried to tell him you weren’t home, and that I would let you know he came by. But he insisted on waiting. His anger is beyond belief. I thought I should give you a warning.”

“Thank you,” Phillip told him, grateful he was not walking blind into one of his father’s tempers. “Is my mother with him?”

Crispin shook his head. “If she was, she didn’t come in.” They had reached his townhouse. “He’s in the library.”

Steeling himself, Phillip let himself in. He handed his hat and coat off to Crispin and then made his way up to the library. The door was ajar. He could hear his father pacing inside. Phillip took a breath, pressed his fingers to the wood, and revealed himself. His father stopped mid-stride.

Both of them stood absolutely still, sizing the other up. Mr. Carlyle broke first, shifting his weight so that both feet were planted firmly on the floor. Most of the light in the room came from the fireplace. Shadows of the furniture covered the walls and towered over them.

“Have you lost your mind, Phillip?” His father’s voice clipped his name into a single syllable.

“It’s entirely sound,” he replied coolly.

Mr. Carlyle’s chin trembled. “Then what possessed you to behave like that in public?”

Phillip’s heart thudded loudly in his ears. His breath felt trapped somewhere between his chest and nose. There was no use in playing coy. Forcing his father to state his grievance would only enrage him further. “I love her, Father. I love that woman.” He moved into the room to take a stand parallel to his father’s.

Byron Carlyle’s face fell before it turned from white to purple. “Your mother and I raised you better than this,” he spat. “And if you no longer have any respect for yourself then the least you can do is respect us and the name you bear.”

“I’m not leaving her.” Phillip clenched his jaw. If Anne refused to forgive him, none of this mattered. And yet it did. For too long, he had ducked standing up for what he believed when the going got tough. Regardless of whether or not Anne would have him, it was time for him to stop backing down. He was not running anymore.

His father sneered. “I don’t care what you do with your hot-blooded whore. But you will not flaunt her around as if she belongs at your side. She does not belong in our society. And you will not degrade yourself or your mother or your sisters or me by associating with her for everyone to see.”

Even though he expected this to come, the words hit Phillip with the power of a physical blow. He reached back to steady himself against the door frame and gritted his teeth. “I love her. And I won’t treat her like you treated my mother.” It was his father’s turn to stagger back. His icy blue eyes went wide. “You don’t think I knew?” Phillip pressed on. “About your mistresses?”

Mr. Carlyle recovered. “How dare you?” he snarled.

Phillip lifted his chin. “I will never do that to the woman I marry.”

His father seethed silently, shoulders rising and falling with his heaving breath. Then, very carefully and clearly, he said, “I hope I’m not to understand that you are thinking of marrying that woman.” Disgust punctuated each word.

Pulsing, violent anger rendered Phillip speechless. He glared at his father, his fists balled at his sides.

Mr. Carlyle’s lips tightened at what he saw in his son’s face. He raised a shaking finger to point at his heir. “I don’t care if you buy her a house. Give her an allowance. Keep fucking her all you want for all I care. You will marry someone worthy of the Carlyle name. And if you dare try to attach our good name to that mutt of a circus slut, I will take your name and everything that comes with it so help me God.”

A tingling sensation spread through Phillip. So there it was. The ultimatum. His voice seemed to be coming from someone else when he spoke. “My mother and sisters?”

Byron Carlyle straightened, triumphant. “You will have no father, mother, or sisters. You will have no family.”

The tingling was joined by a ringing in Phillip’s ears. His mother, Lilian, and Josephine had become the pendulum on which his father’s power swung. Money may have mattered to Phillip a few years ago, but he had learned to make that for himself. Phillip glared at his father. “You can disown me. I will give up my name. But my mother and sisters will not be pawns for you to get your way.”

His father’s shoulders sagged. “Your mother and I have always tried to do what’s best for you. What you’re doing now, it will hurt our family. My partnerships, your mother’s friendships, your sisters’ marriage prospects. We’ve tried to show you leniency, but we cannot let you do this. Will you throw away everything for a whim?”

Phillip shook his head. “Anne is not a whim.”

Sadness filled the lines of Mr. Carlyle’s face. There was no way forward without hurting anyone if his parents would not stand by him. And how could he expect them to? Phillip swallowed. “It’s best you go, Father.”

“Phillip,” his father said gruffly. A thousand pleas and commands hung in the balance of his name.

Phillip turned aside, standing back to clear the path to the door. Byron Carlyle gathered himself. As he strode past his son, Phillip spoke up. “Not that it is any of your business, but I haven’t touched Anne. And she’s not a whore. She’s one of the bravest, strongest, and most noble women I have ever met.”

His father paused. The look he gave his oldest child was pitying. “Be that as it may, she is still colored.” He clasped Phillip’s shoulder before he continued on. After a beat, Phillip followed him to the stairs and watched over the banister while his father descended to the foyer where he was handed his cloak and hat. He did not even bother to pull them on before he left.

Phillip gripped the railing and leaned forward against his arms. He felt lightheaded. As terrible as the encounter with his father had been, he was no longer afraid. Anne thought that he was choosing between his family and her. He realized now that had never been the case. What he believed and wanted had diverged from his parents’ way of life long ago. Anne had not made him choose. She had given him the courage to go his own way, and Phillip loved her all the more for it. With the burden of his guilt that love burned painfully within him.

For what felt like hours, Phillip stood in the semi-darkness of his house. Sometimes he thought of how he would go about winning Anne back. Sometimes he plotted out how to decouple his assets from his parents’ and keep his house, if possible. And sometimes, he reveled in the freedom he felt for the first time in his life.

*****

Anne could feel WD bristling behind her as she yanked off her flyboot. Now that the show was over, he wanted to know why she had walked out at the beginning of the concert that evening. She had no doubt he had a good guess about the reason. Maybe he had seen. What she could not figure out was whether he was angry at her or Phillip. Not that she was in the mood to defend herself--or him--right then.   

“If you’re not going to say anything, stop standing over me,” she snapped finally. Anne tossed her boot under the vanity. She needed time to think, to sort out the storm of emotions that she had been holding off until she got through their act. But WD had followed her back to their dressing area wanting to talk.

“What do you want me to say?” he said darkly. “That it could have ended any different? You knew this would happen when you went back to him.”

She tugged off her other boot. “It hasn’t ended.”

“For you or for him? His intentions seemed pretty clear when he refused to acknowledge you.”

That stung. Anne hunched her shoulders against his words, remembering how determinedly Phillip refused to look at her. She had waited trying to give him a chance. And he gave her nothing. As desperately as she had wanted him to turn and choose her though, she would never ask him to do that. Especially not in front of his parents. Phillip had not said as much, but who else could have made him panic as he had?

WD’s shoes scuffed the floor as he crossed their little space to stand behind her. His warmth spread across her back, and his strong hands came to rest on her shoulders. Anne dared to meet his eyes in the mirror. They were kind. It was not her he was angry with. “Annie, we both know he can’t marry you.”

Anne’s lip trembled until she caught it between her teeth. That was not enough to stop her tears. “I love him,” she admitted. It was the first time she said the words aloud.

Her brother’s arms circled around her and pulled her tightly against him. She turned her head into his shirt. He held her, rocking her gently. His calloused hand came up to stroke first her cheek, wiping away the wetness, and then her hair. “If he’s not strong enough, then you have to be the one to let him go.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

“You can.” WD continued to run his hand over her hair to comfort her. “You saw what happened tonight. Is that how you wanna live the rest of your life? Always waiting for him to let you down?”

Her voice broke. “No.” She reached up and curled her fingers into his shirt.

Phillip begged her so many times not to walk away. Over and over he promised they could figure out a way if she gave him a chance. Against everything she knew, Anne let herself be blinded. She loved him. She tried so hard to fight it, for both of them, but Phillip had patiently and persistently worked his way into her heart. She let herself believe there was hope.

And tonight her faith had been betrayed. He had betrayed it. The way his parents looked at her cut deeply. Their fury and anguish made her love feel dirty and criminal. Like she had taken something that did not belong to her. But what was unbearable was that after all of his promises, Phillip had cast her off, and he had done it so easily.

“WD?”

“Annie?”

Her hand moved to close around his arm. “I don’t want to lose you.”

WD’s reflection in the mirror frowned. “I don’t plan on going anywhere without you.”

“You won’t make me decide then, will you? You won’t make me choose you over him? Because if you made me, I’d choose you without a thought.”

“But?”

“If I leave him, I want it to be on my terms. Not anyone else’s. It’s the only way I’ll be able to live with it.”

A slow pained smile spread across WD’s face. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the ‘if.’”

“WD,” she pleaded. Anne leaned back to look up at him. The edge of her vanity cut into her back. She ignored the pain and tightened her grip on his shirt.  

His dark eyes were troubled. “I won’t,” he promised.

Anne settled back into him. “Thank you.”

If Phillip was sorry for what he’d done, he did not appear that night to tell her. He must have left after she caught him watching her from his office. When she and WD emerged from their dressing area, many of the others were still sitting around talking about the way Barnum had treated them, dismissively calling them sideshow novelties and shutting them out of the reception.

Were it not for all of Phillip’s efforts and attention, the ringmaster might have had a mutiny forming on his hands. If Anne could not trust Phillip to stand by her, at least the others trusted him to stand by them. She knew that was not fair. There were many reasons that their relationship was far more complicated than his role at the circus. But Anne was not interested in being fair tonight.

She left. Phillip had worked hard to earn everyone’s trust, and she did not want to undo that by suddenly expressing any doubt in him. Especially after she stood up for him so recently. WD stayed.

Anne was the first home. She changed in the dark and climbed into bed. Zipporah leapt up behind her and came to curl up by her side. The feline tapped Anne’s wrist insistently until she gave in and petted her.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed. Zipporah curled into a tighter ball. Green eyes that glowed in the darkness turned to stare at her unblinkingly.

There was nothing Anne could do, for now. This was it. Phillip had to decide the price he was willing to pay to love her. The selfish part of her wanted to know that he would do it but the noble part of her felt she could not let him. Phillip had brought his sisters to her hoping to show how much he was willing to make things work. Instead he had shown her what he stood to lose. Two sisters who adored him, idolized him, just as she looked up to WD. How could she take that away from them?

As she ran her fingers through the cat’s soft fur, Anne thought about how many good people they had drawn into their lies. Josephine, Lilian, Penelope, Mr. Vandorn, Crispin. If the truth came out all of them could face consequences for the secrets they had been keeping. Despite his parents’ narrow-mindedness, she did not want to tear Phillip’s family apart. But that was the most likely outcome if they stayed the course they had set. Although his parents were wrong, innocent people would get hurt. Her own blood was proof of that.

She and Phillip could live the way Cecelia suggested, never publicly acknowledging what they were to one another and living their love out in secret within the walls of the circus and his house. It was enticing. There would be sacrifices, but it was perhaps an arrangement everyone could learn to live with.

However by that choice, they would condemn any children that came of their union to illegitimacy. Other women might be naive, but Anne had seen enough to know babies did not wait for marriage. And without a marriage to protect them, her children’s claim to their father would always be at risk, especially if anything were to happen to Phillip. People had children out of wedlock, but as a bastard herself, it was a legacy she did not want to pass down. Her own mother had sacrificed to make sure her children owned their life. Anne would do the same. Even if it meant giving up Phillip.

Quiet voices on the stairs announced her roommates’ return. She rolled over to face the far wall so that she could pretend to be asleep. Zipporah twitched her tail in annoyance.

Maybe she would not have to give up Phillip, she thought, curling in more tightly on herself. Maybe he had already given up on her. That thought nearly broke her.

Anne woke with the weight of dread heavy on her stomach. Despite her friends’ chatter, she dressed in silence. Multiple times the comb snagged in her curls while she wondered how Phillip would react to seeing her again. Would he try to explain? Apologize? Continue to ignore her? What would she do?

Nausea had replaced the weight by the time they left. Her palms grew clammy in her gloves. On the street car, Cecelia, sitting beside her, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ill, Anne?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re pale.”

“Yes. Just tired.” Cecelia pursed her lips but let it go.

To Anne’s immense relief, Phillip was not in the ring when they arrived. Barnum was, however, and called her over. She was surprised to see him. Jenny Lind had consumed his full attention since she set foot in America. Now he was back, overseeing the repainting of the band’s stand.

“I hear Miss Lind wasn’t to your taste last night,” he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Caught off guard, Anne wondered who told him she left. She thought only Phillip and WD noticed and neither was likely to take it back to Barnum. “She was beautiful. I wasn’t feeling well,” she lied. “I didn’t want to cause a scene.”

“Well that’s my mistake then. I thought she had failed to impress you. I hope you’re feeling better because there’s a ticket to the play _Serious Family_ at Wallack’s Theatre tonight in your name.” She stared at him in astonishment. This seemed so unlike him. Especially after the way he had treated Lettie and the others the night before. “I wanted to make it up to you. Turns out I was wrong, but the ticket’s there and you might as well enjoy your evening off. ”

Anne started to protest and then bit her tongue. What good would it do her to seem ungrateful? She thanked him for his kindness.

He stopped her before she turned away. “I’m going to need you in the coming weeks, Anne. Take today off. Give WD a break too.”

Bewildered she thanked him again. WD was just as bemused when she relayed the exchange to him. “No point looking a gift horse in the mouth,” he told her when she hesitated to leave. “I’m going to stick around, but you should get some rest. You look tired.”

Anne wondered how bad she looked that so many people were concerned for her health. Briefly she considered staying to confront Phillip. Unless he was the reason Barnum had encouraged her to go home. That would explain the ringmaster’s odd behavior. If that was the case, then Phillip did not want to see her.

She drew in a shaky breath. “I think I’ll go,” she agreed. “If anyone asks, I wasn’t feeling well.”

WD hugged her. “Don’t worry, Annie,” he whispered.

When the way was clear, she let herself out the side door so no one would see her leave.

*****

Phillip paced his office waiting for word that his partner had done as he asked. If Barnum succeeded, he would not see Anne until that night at the theater. Hopefully on top of everything else he’d done, she would forgive him the slight deception. He needed to talk to her, to apologize, but first he had to show her he was willing to stand unflinchingly at her side. And this time it would not be in standing room but in box seats at one of the most popular theaters in New York City. 

Phillip Carlyle’s name would once again, and for the last time, be at the center of a scandal. His father would have no choice but to disown him and his mother would have an invitation to every house in town while everyone tried to learn what she thought of it all. Hundreds more scandals would come and go in New York society by the time his sisters came of marrying age, and by then, his parents would have made it clear that he was all but dead to them.

He would leave behind the name Carlyle and fade into the bohemian life of the circus. Without his name or connections, maybe Anne would finally be able to believe that there was a way for them to be together. Penelope had two letters, one for each of his sisters. She would give them to Josephine and Lilian if his parents did not let him say goodbye. Of the things he was about to do, losing contact with them, at least for awhile, was his greatest regret.

Barnum knocked, and Phillip hurried to get the door, eager to know if the first part of his plan had worked. The question was on the tip of his tongue when he stopped. It was not Barnum. It was WD.

“Good morning, Mr. Carlyle. May I come in?” His voice made it clear he would be coming in invited or not.

Phillip stood back. “Of course.”

WD entered, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. Phillip stepped back again so he did not have to crane his neck to meet the taller man’s scrutiny. Dark eyes swept over Phillip’s green velvet jacket and matching tie. A frown formed in the corners of WD’s mouth. He rolled his shoulders. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for my little sister. Taking care of the money she got. Giving her the dress. Anne was happy. I wouldn’t have guessed...” He trailed off.

“She’d fall in love with a man like me?” Phillip finished.

WD flashed his teeth. It was not friendly. “Love is a strong word, Mr. Carlyle. Has she told you that?”

Anne’s brother would know if he lied. “No. But I love her.”

WD’s jaw tightened, but he kept himself in check. “Truth be told, I’m the one who encouraged Moe back in England. I thought he might help her see getting involved with you was a bad idea. She wouldn’t listen to me, and I love her, so I’m only gonna push her so far.”

Anger rose in Phillip at WD’s confession, but he tamped it down, determined to hear him out. He would never come between the two siblings. They would not let him. If he wanted Anne, he had to win over WD first.

“You let her leave last night,” WD went on. “You let go of her and let her walk away. I wanna make sure it’s for good. That you’re gonna leave her alone and let her live her life. Without you. Before she gets hurt real bad. Or you both get hurt.”

Phillip crossed his arms under WD’s glare. He should have seen this coming. He was so focused on Anne. Phillip weighed the gamble he was about to make. It was worth a shot. “I made a mistake last night, WD. Possibly one that no apology can erase, but I will try to say I’m sorry. I will try to make things right with Anne. Starting tonight. Because I love her. I love her enough to give up everything for her. And I won’t hesitate again. You know as well as anyone that whatever decision Anne makes, it will be her own. So if she decides to walk away, I swear to you that I won’t go after her. I will let her go. But if she doesn’t, if she stays, I promise I will ask her to marry me. I will do whatever it takes to protect her and make her happy. If she stays, I’d like your blessing.”

WD’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His handsome face was dark with indignation. “And if I say no?”

Phillip’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips. “What can I do? She wouldn’t do anything without your blessing.”

Anne’s brother lifted his chin, much as his sister did when she found something or someone wanting. They were interrupted by someone pounding on the door. “WD!” Lettie called. “I know you’re in there.”

WD and Phillip exchanged looks of surprise before WD opened the door. Lettie’s fist was raised to pound again.

“What are you doing here?” WD demanded.

The singer put out an arm and shoved her way in. “Close the door,” she ordered. WD did as he was told. Phillip’s arms fell by his sides in shock. He wondered what came next as Lettie stood there in her sleeveless dressing gown, hands on her hips while she stared down Anne’s brother. “I told you to stay out of it,” she said darkly.

WD glowered. “Stop meddling in my business.”

Lettie snorted. “It’s not yours anyway. It’s your sister’s. So’s as long as you’re here, I’m here.”

Phillip threw up his hands. “Should I go downstairs and ask if anyone else wants to join?”

“You’re the one who dragged me into this, Carlyle,” Lettie retorted. “So I’m staying.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose and walked around behind his desk so that he could lean on it. “Fine,” he said, as if his agreement mattered to her.

Now that she had the floor, Lettie let her arms drop. She spoke to him first. “I told WD not to come up here, but I don’t half blame him after what you did last night.” She rolled her eyes when he looked up at her. “Even if WD didn’t tell me, I would’ve figured it out. Anne’s not talking.”

Phillip dropped his head in shame. Lettie had warned him, just like Penelope, about what he could do to Anne, and he had not listened. She went on. “I took your side every time, and I don’t like to think I made a mistake for doing that so I hope you’re not just planning to hide in here and mope.”

“No,” he sighed. “I was planning to take her to the theater. To see a play. To show her I’m not ashamed of her.”

“And?”

“And maybe she’ll forgive me. I don’t know.” Even he could hear the defeat in his voice. “I wouldn’t, if I were her.”

“Oh stop feeling sorry--.”

WD cut her off. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Phillip looked up. “What?”

“I’ll think about your offer. If Anne accepts your apology.”

It was the most he could expect and better than he’d hoped. “Thank you, WD.”

Lettie raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask there was another knock at the door.

“Damn it! Who is it?” Phillip called.

Barnum popped his head in. The grin was still fading from his face at Phillip's tone. His eyes widened taking in the room’s three occupants. “Sorry. Didn’t realize I was interrupting something.” He clapped his hand on the door. “Come by my office when you’re done. I’ve got some news. And now I’ll er get out of your hair.” He closed the door gingerly behind him.

Phillip rubbed his forehead. “I’d better go see what this news is. I have a feeling it’s more than I bargained for. We can talk after if--.”

“If she walks away, you won’t go after her?” WD asked.

Phillip’s hands tightened on the edge of his desk. That was his end of the bargain. WD had not fully accepted his. Phillip could hold out. Or he could show good faith. He needed to win over WD. He gambled again when he met the other man’s intense stare. “I won’t. I swear.” A sinking feeling in his stomach told him he might have made another mistake. WD nodded and let himself out.

“Carlyle, are you sure about this?” Lettie asked. Her voice was unusually sympathetic.

Phillip chuckled hollowly. “No. I’m not sure about anything right now.”

“That’s not true. You know you love Anne. Whatever she says, it probably won’t change how you feel about her.” Lettie followed WD out. Were her words meant as a comfort or a warning? Phillip collected himself and went to see Barnum about his news.

*****

Wallack’s Theater was brightly lit against the night. A giant poster of a woman in white, her hands thrown in the air in abandon, covered the front. Patrons lined up outside the door waiting to get in.

Wearing one of the dresses Mrs. Alston had gifted her with for her visit to England, Anne stood on the corner across from the sprawling building. The night was cold, and she shivered in the thin black mantle she wore over her lime gown. For all the hours she had spent watching people go into theaters, she had never set foot in one herself. Suddenly, with the opportunity in her grasp, it felt imposing and grand. Too imposing. Too grand.

I’ve been inside Buckingham Palace, Anne chided herself. I met the Queen of England. Still, the memory of the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle’s faces the night before haunted her. She hated those looks. The ones that resented, even questioned, her existence.

As much as she hated them, they were not going to stop her from seeing the show. There was a ticket in her name, and she was going to use it. Anne took in a breath and hurried across the street to join the line of theater goers. The woman in front of her shifted closer to her companion. “Watch your wallet,” she warned in a loud whisper. The man looked around. Spotting Anne, he pulled the woman even closer, and they moved as far forward as the people in front of them would allow.

Anne kept her eyes on the ground and did not try to close the distance. She waited for the line to move twice before she took a step forward, always keeping a safe distance between herself and the couple. Several times the woman glanced back. A part of her wanted to announce that she was not going to steal anything, but she pushed it aside and kept her head down. Causing a stir would get her thrown out before she even had a chance to get inside.

At last it was her turn to approach the will call window. She gave the man her name. “Mr. Barnum said he left a ticket for me.” He pursed his lips in disapproval as he thumbed through his box of tickets. Clearing his throat, he thrust a pair out at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said embarrassed. “I believe there’s only supposed to be one.” Anne did not want anyone else to accuse her of the intent to steal.

“No, there’s meant to be two,” an out of breath voice said coming up beside her. Phillip.

Anne looked over at him. After ignoring her, letting her go, and then avoiding her all day, here he was. Realization dawned on her. Barnum had lied to her. Phillip had tricked her. Those were things she expected of Barnum. Not Phillip.

He stared at her earnestly now. “I wasn’t sure you’d come if I asked,” he apologized.

There was so much more that needed to be said. Last night he had gone in one direction, and now without warning he was pulling her in another. When and where they would be seen together in public was something she would have left entirely up to Phillip, but she wished they had at least talked about it. Now she was standing here with him in the tiled lobby of one of the city's most popular theaters with little choice but to go along with it. She understood that he was trying and that warmed her. But she also felt trapped. 

Anne collected herself and pushed down her irritation. They were here. He had come to be at her side. She was seeing a play at last, and regardless of how it had come to be, she ought to enjoy it. She turned to look up the stairs. At the top, an usher in a crisp uniform announced that it was five minutes to curtain.

Her childhood had been spent dreaming of being inside these walls. She took in the towering ceiling, the gilded trim and marble columns on the doorway at the top of the stairs. Even the torch-like sconces were built on a scale to impress. Phillip followed her gaze around the entry as if he were seeing everything for the first time too.

“I’ve always wanted to go to the theater,” she told him. Of course he’d known that. But she wanted him to know that she appreciated why he had surprised her here.

The way he looked at her made her cheeks warm. His will may have wavered the night before but not his love. It was quiet but fierce in his eyes when he held out his arm for her to take. Heart racing wildly, Anne looped her arm through his and reached down to gather her skirt. Together they started up the staircase.

“Phillip, is that you?” someone demanded incredulously. The couple ahead of them had stopped and turned. The husband was tall and distinguished in his top hat, silk scarf, and tuxedo. His wife wore a beautiful, embroidered dove gray gown with a fur mantle around her shoulders. Strands of gray pearls circled her throat. Anne’s grip tightened on Phillip’s arm. These were his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle. Her heart was suddenly beating in her throat.

Mr. Carlyle’s narrow face was taut with barely contained fury. There was little resemblance to his son in his sharp features and icy glare. Perhaps before he went gray they had shared the same hair color, but now it was only the shape of their eyes. Beside him, Mrs. Carlyle’s face crumpled. Her daughters had inherited her reddish-brown hair and large blue eyes. Although they were filled with disappointment and anguish as they took in Anne, her eyes had none of the hardness of his father’s.   

Phillip did not hesitate this time. “Mother,” he said firmly. “Father. This is Anne Wheeler.” Another time, the pride in his voice would have warmed her. Now it chilled. Anne waited, fearing the scene that was about to erupt.

Disgust curled Mr. Carlyle’s lips. He drew himself up to his full height. “Phillip, have you no shame? Associating with that Barnum business is one thing...”

Heads turned in their direction as people overheard the rising confrontation. People glanced furtively over at them before hurrying past on the stairs. Anne did not want to stay to hear what Phillip’s parents had to say about her. She pressed on his arm, tried to tug him away, but he would not budge as he stared down his father.

“But parading around with the help,” Mr. Carlyle snarled. Every word landed like a lash. She had never had any illusions about what the Carlyles would think of their son’s choice of women, but the humiliation of their public disdain and disgust were too much. She was not a person to them, not anyone worthy of feelings, of love. 

If she were to be with Phillip, this was the promise of their future. The way the world would see them. The way the people he loved would see them. Anne could not let Phillip choose this life. Because she would not willingly choose it for herself. What he wanted, what she wanted, was impossible. And it was over. Everything shattered on the brink of the fulfillment of her dreams.

Tears threatened to spill over, but she refused to let his parents destroy what remained of her dignity. Without a word, Anne freed her arm from Phillip’s and fled back down the stairs, ignoring his calls for her. He had stood by her. It was enough for her to say goodbye.

For a long time she ran with no direction, barely hearing the shouts for her to watch where she was going over the pounding in her ears. Anger and humiliation fueled her flight until the burning in her lungs forced her to stop. No longer in motion, everything drained away leaving her numb. Anne stared around her as her chest heaved. She had run quite a ways down Broadway. Her face was soaked with tears and mucus. Her feet throbbed, pinched and raw in her dress boots.

The numbness within her was welcome. It held off the storm. The storm that made her want to scream to the heavens for the fate it had handed her. To love a man she could not have.

Anne pulled a handkerchief from her wrist purse to clean her face. There was nothing she could do for her swollen nose or raw cheeks but the cold would help with those. Collecting herself with a few deep breaths, she made her way to the nearest streetcar stop. She held the numbness close like a blanket, afraid of what would happen if she let it go.

Phillip was gone. She did not want to think or feel anymore. This was one of those things that could not be fixed. She just wanted to escape.

Anne resumed her retreat knowing exactly where she wanted to be.

*****

Rage burned through Phillip as he watched Anne disappear through the doors of the theater. A hundred things he wanted to but should never say to his parents rushed through his head. He struggled to get control of himself.

Phillip rounded on his mother and father. Neither of their faces showed any remorse for the way they had treated Anne. Instead, they looked at him as if he were the one who ought to be ashamed. As if he were in the wrong.

He took a step toward his father. “How dare you speak to her like that?” he demanded. His parents did not even flinch. Instead his father looked at him as if he had turned into a stranger. Maybe they always had been. There was nothing more to be said between them. Phillip was done, and he could not delay any longer in going after Anne. He turned his back on his parents.

Mrs. Carlyle grabbed him with strength he had never known she had. “You forget your place, Phillip,” she reminded him desperately. Her eyes begged him to reconsider. She wanted him to be reasonable. Her fingers clutched him painfully, trying to keep him with her. The pleading look she gave him was one he had seen before. Until now it had always worked to bend him to her will. It worked because even though it asked him to give up what he believed, it was filled with overwhelming love.

“My place?” Phillip needed her to understand that this time he would not give in. “Mother, if this is my place, then I don’t want any part of it.”

Mrs. Carlyle stumbled back as if he had physically pushed her. Her husband pivoted and stalked up the stairs. “Come Agnes,” he barked. “We don’t want to miss the show for this foolishness.”

She wavered. “Phillip. I’m your mother.” Agony shook each word.

He spared her one more second so that she did not have to be alone while her heart broke. As much as he hated not doing the same for Anne, this was his mother. He owed her that. Then Phillip left, dashing down the stairs to find Anne.

There was no sign of her outside the theater. He ran across the street to the park. A quick search revealed that she was not there. She would have wanted to get away as fast possible so she was probably on foot. If she was going home or to her brother then she was heading downtown.

Phillip went after her as fast as he could while checking each street for her. Her head start was probably hindered by her shoes. It was possible that even with the delay, he was not far behind. However, after running nearly a mile, he gave up trying to catch up to her on foot. Had she gone home or to WD? He went back and forth between the two. Who would she want to talk to first?

No one. Anne would not want to talk to anyone first. She would want to be alone. She would go to the circus.

*****

Anne did not bother to look up when she heard the door slam or running footsteps. Last night she had wanted Phillip to follow her out. Tonight she wished he hadn’t. It meant she would have to say goodbye sooner. That he had come all the way here to find her would make it that much harder to do it. She finished wrapping her wrist and tucked the ends of the guard under the binding.  

He stopped in front of where she sat in the risers. “Anne.” The way he said her name was so tender it threatened to make her cry again. She pulled the other guard from her shoulder and began to wrap her other wrist. When she refused to acknowledge him, Phillip placed his foot on the lowest bench and leaned into her. “They’re small minded people.”

Those small minded people were his parents. He said it like they were strangers. As if he had no connection to them. He reached out to take her hand. She jerked away. Finally she looked up. Phillip pulled back at the warning in her face.

It was over. She did not want his touch. Or his comfort.

He stared at her sadly. “Why do you care what they think?”

“It’s not just them,” she told him shaking her head. “You’ve never had somebody look at you the way your parents looked at me.” When he did not try to defend them, she went on. “The way everyone would look at us.” She almost said the way everyone would look at their children, but she caught herself. Knowing that she had thought of their future in those terms would give him hope.

Anne got up and stalked past him. She came here to be alone. She came here to escape him, and he was taking that from her.

Phillip was not going to let her go that easily. For all of his mistakes, he never stopped fighting for her or for them. He pleaded with her to see that there was a chance for them. All that mattered was that they loved one another, and even though she refused to admit it, he knew she loved him back.

She tried to ignore him, but her will wavered as he promised that they could rewrite their stars. Phillip pulled her to him, holding her closer than he had ever dared before as he ran his hand through her hair, insisting that their future was up to them.

Afraid of being swayed by his passion and touch, Anne drew away. “You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?” Phillip watched her, stubbornly refusing to give in. When would he see that their love was not enough to overcome what society believed they each deserved? “There are mountains and there are doors that we can’t walk through.”

She tried to make him understand. “I know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls. But when we go outside, you’re going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all. When they see us together, they will break us.”

Phillip caught her as she tried to turn away. Anne leaned in and touched his face. “I’m not the one you were meant to find. And it’s not up to you. It’s not up to me.”

He placed his hands on her hips but let go when she frowned. Instead he cupped her face. Eyes holding hers, he pleaded, “All I want is to fly with you, fall with you. It doesn’t matter, Anne. I love you, so just give me all of you. Please, say you will. You have all of me. I will never do what I did last night again. I swear. I won’t let them break us ever again. I’m sorry.”

Anne threw her arms around him, and Phillip swept her up tightly. “I want that too, Phillip. I want it more than anything. But it’s impossible.” She brought her arms down and pushed him away. She tried to turn, to leave, but he grabbed her and swung her around.

“It’s not impossible,” he cried. “Say it’s possible, Anne. Stop telling yourself what can’t be and say it can. It’s possible. Say it. Just say it. Once.”

“Say that it’s possible? Phillip, how do we rewrite the stars? Just say you were meant to be mine? That nothing can keep us apart ‘cause you are the one I was meant to find?” She echoed his words back to him, hoping he would hear how ridiculous his promises were when they were not coming from his own mouth. He was not convinced.

“Yes, yes, Anne.” His hands grasped her hips again to keep her from leaving. “It is up to you, and it is up to me. Because what we have is between us and only us. No one, not my parents, not someone on the street, no one out there, can say otherwise unless we let them. If we do this, we could rewrite the stars not just for us but for anyone like us. We can change the world to be ours.”

Anne looked down. She would never find the strength to let go otherwise. “You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide.” He had to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her. He had to know so that he would understand that in letting him go, she was breaking her heart too. Maybe then he would realize that there might be things worse than the pain of being apart. Things he could not yet see. “But I can’t have you. We’re bound to break, and my hands are tied.”

“Anne?” Phillip pressed his forehead to hers. The tips of their noses met and their breath mingled. Anne closed her eyes, soaking in the feel of him so close, his smell. She memorized the weight of his arm against her side. For a second, it felt impossible to break away from him.

Then, gently, she lowered his hands from her hips. “I forgave you for last night, Phillip. You didn’t mean for your parents to see. But tonight you humiliated me. You used me to make a point to your parents, and you never thought to ask me if that was okay. All the times I have tried to walk away were between you and me. What we’ve had was between you and me. What happened tonight was between you and your parents and everyone in that theater. You forced me to be part of it. So it’s not just us. And it’s not up to you or me.”

Phillip tried to take her hand, but she held it to her chest. “Anne, I’m sorry.”

Anne took a step back. “I want you, Phillip. But outside these walls, the world will never let us be. What we have threatens the way things are, the way everyone believes things are supposed to be, so they will break us. And when that happens sorry will not be enough to save you. Sorry means nothing when you’re colored, and if you want to be with me, that is what you will become.”

"Anne, I chose you!" he cried. "I don't care."

She put out her arms so he could not come any closer. If he touched her, she might give in again. But she could not this time. It was over. "I do so you don't have to choose now. I don't want this. I'm done."

The color drained from Phillip's face. "That's not true."

Anne hardened her expression so he could not see the pain tearing her apart. "It's not your place to decide that. It's mine. And I'm done." She pivoted and walked out without looking back.

This time, Phillip did not follow. When she emerged from her dressing room in her gown, he was gone and the circus was empty.


	17. More to come

Dear lovely readers,

This is not an announcement that I am discontinuing this fic but a promise that it will be continued when I return from abroad in two weeks. I tried to get chapter 17 up before I left, but it needs some more work. I'm not sure what the wifi situation will be where I'm staying so I'm posting this before leaving.

Thank you so much for sticking with me on this final leg of the story and for all of your questions and comments. It means so much to me that this story means something to you.

Be back soon.

A bientot!


	18. Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, so a two week pause turned into a mid-season break as I traveled half way around the world, started a new job, and found an apartment. I'm so sorry, but I'M BACK!!! And we're in the final stretch lovelies. 
> 
> Please excuse any typos. No beta and wanted to get this up before even more time went by. Enjoy!!

As Anne walked away snuffing out the last flame of hope for them, it was not Phillip’s promise to WD that kept him rooted in the dim ring. It was his fear that if he pushed too hard against those set shoulders and determined stride, he would lose her altogether. She would quit the circus and disappear leaving him to wonder for the rest of his life what had become of her. 

Phillip watched her until she faded into the shadows of the tunnel. Anne did not look back. Everything in him fought against turning away to gather his things. But he did. Moving felt like swimming against a current that threatened to sweep him away. 

Outside, he dropped down onto the stairs and let his head fall into his hands. His hat and jacket toppled to the ground unheeded. The cold quickly seeped through his thin shirt numbing his arms and torso. He hardly felt it battered as he was by the debris of his crumbling hopes, memories of the future disintegrating before they could even come to be. He could not hate Anne so he hated his parents and every person who proved in her mind that it was safer to break her heart--and his--than to be in love. 

Heartsick as he was, Phillip could not bring himself to leave without knowing Anne was safely on her way home. He curled his arms around himself to hold onto what little warmth he had left. It did not occur to him to put on his jacket.

It felt like forever before the creak and scrape of the heavy door behind him announced Anne’s presence. 

“Phillip?” she gasped.  


Hurriedly he used his sleeve to scrub the tears from his face. Then he rose and turned to her. Darkness and his own wavering vision obscured her eyes, but he could just make out the hard frown on her lips. Knowing her as he did by now, it was not difficult for him to guess that her eyebrows were lowered toward one another to meet at the pinch over her nose. 

She was wearing the gown that she was supposed to have worn to the show that night. Of all the things to cross his mind while staring at the woman he was about to lose, it occurred to him that he did not like the dress. But it was what he would remember her in forever. This one and the butterfly one. 

Anne cleared her throat, pushing Phillip from his speechlessness. “I only wanted to make sure you were on your way safely,” he said quickly. “Will you let me get you a cab?”

“I have to finish locking up,” she replied, drawing back against the door. 

“I’ll do it.”

Clutching the key to her chest, she insisted, “I don’t mind.” Her frown was now a scowl, but that did not stop him from moving closer. Anne turned her back to him and in the brief moment her face was caught in the light of the street lamp, he could see that her cheeks and nose were swollen from crying. 

The desire to hold her was so overwhelming that his arms cramped with the effort to restrain them. “Anne, let me get you cab,” he pleaded. “Tonight was all my fault. I’m sorry. With all my heart, I’m sorry. I’ve asked you to give me a chance too many times so I’m not asking again. I just need to know you’ll be safe.” 

Each word scraped at his throat leaving it raw and aching. Anne said nothing while she jiggled the door to make sure it was locked and returned the key to its hiding place under a loose floorboard by the ticket sales booth. Her silence hurt his ears.

Around them, the city went about its business, unconcerned by the lives it held in its grip.

At last, Anne could no longer ignore him. “Must you insist?” She kept to the shadows where her straight silhouette could belie her tears.

“As much as I can against your impossible stubbornness, Anne Wheeler.”

“I don’t want to be impossible,” she said tiredly. 

Phillip cut her off feeling as weary as her voice sounded. “That’s not what I meant, dove. I meant just you. If you and I could just be, you’d still be unmovable. Sometimes.” 

“Only when it mattered.”

Just as it did now. 

He crouched to gather up his hat and jacket. When he straightened again, Anne was at his side looking out over the square. With the circus and shops long closed for the night, the area was nearly deserted except for a few wagons and carriages that trundled past on their way up or downtown for the night. Not far away, a dog barked to no reply.

The cold had soothed some of the evidence of her tears. Phillip wondered if she could see that he had been crying too. Her voice low, she said, “You waited for me. I thought you’d left.”

He turned his hat in his hands. “I can’t leave. If not with you, then at least not without knowing you’re safe.”

Finally, she looked at him, and he could see in the glint in her eyes the struggle she was burying deep inside. He would not make it any harder for her. Phillip waved down a passing driver and helped Anne into the hansom. 

“Good night,” he told her.

“Good night.” 

Before anything else could be said, the driver slapped the horses into motion, and Anne hurriedly sat back into the seat. Phillip squeezed his hand to remember how her fingers had tightened around his before she was forced to let release them. She had not wanted to let him go.

Having learned of her husband’s visit and ultimatum, his mother came early the next morning to beg him to reconcile with his father. She pleaded, screamed, and cried with each of them but neither would be moved. By the end of the week, all Phillip had left of his inheritance was the deed to his house. 

Anne was out of reach. Barnum was off to tour the country with Jenny Lind. Penelope could only communicate through discreet notes while his parents demanded to know her part in their son's scandal. Everything left for Phillip to hold together, including himself, felt hollow. Before he would have run. Now he was determined to stay. People depended on him. 

Knowing that did not make his job easier. To have Anne so close and yet adamant about putting distance between them was a constant agony like a splinter lodged too deeply to remove. Sometimes he got caught up in his work only to have a glimpse of her reignite the pain. Sometimes he probed the wound on purpose. He watched from the shadows each night while she performed. Hidden from her sight, he drank her in, trying to get his fill until the next time. It was never enough. 

Those were the only moments of weakness he allowed himself. With Barnum away and the number of protesters swelling, Phillip could not afford to let his guard down. He pushed aside his feelings and refused to discuss Anne with even Lettie. WD watched him warily when he first learned what happened. But it was Phillip who made a gamble and lost. What happened with Anne was no one’s fault but his own so any anger he held, he reserved for himself.

Whatever Anne felt, she hid behind silence. She was always in the air now, pushing herself to the limits of her abilities. Whether it was to escape herself or him he could not tell. He worried constantly that she would hurt herself, but that was another thing he had to keep to himself.

The more the troupe looked to and relied on him, the deeper Phillip had to bury his feelings for Anne and the lonelier he became.  


Weeks went by and word from PT dwindled from letters with instructions and questions about running the circus to telegrams stating wherever he was or was headed. Phillip no longer bothered to consult him about new acts or hires. In the beginning of the year, WD came to him. Phillip was going over accounts in his office.

“You’re not leaving?” he demanded sharply as soon as Anne's brother asked for a moment. Before he kept his promise to WD, their understanding was tenuous, at best. Since, their interactions were often strained with acute politeness. With Anne convinced that her hands were tied, it was possible the siblings were thinking of moving on. 

WD’s gaze fell. “Not unless you’re letting us go.” So much lay beneath the surface of his words. There were questions, suspicions, and something else Phillip could not place. 

He ran a hand over his hair. “No, of course not.” The air was thick with all the things they were not saying or asking about Anne. One thing he hoped was clear though. He would never turn them out for her decision. 

WD relaxed some. Moving the conversation into what he hoped was safer territory, Phillip asked about the purpose of his visit. WD told him about a group of aerialists searching for work and vouched for their talent. “You’re not one for favors so they must be excellent,” Phillip mused. “Have them come to audition on Tuesday in the early afternoon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Carlyle. I’ll let them know.” He hesitated then added before he left, “This was not a favor. For them.”

Phillip soon discovered what WD meant by his parting words. The four aerialists were everything WD promised and then some. Their hire meant that Phillip was able to expand one of the show’s most popular acts and revenues went up significantly. He was the one who’d received the favor.    


What Phillip knew of PT’s tour--beyond its stops--he learned through the paper. If she had any news, Charity Barnum was not around to share it. Her regular visits to the circus had dwindled around the time Jenny Lind arrived and stopped altogether when her husband left. According to every report, the tour was a success so far. Night after night Jenny Lind performed to sold out theaters and critics scrambled over one another to bestow the highest praise upon her. All indications pointed to Barnum winning another gamble. 

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Charles asked while Phillip helped straighten his jacket and epaulets for the evening. The insolent smirk the small man usually wore had been replaced by a dejection that made him appear even more childlike than his size. 

Phillip forced a grin. “I’m sure Miss Lind isn’t half as fun to be around as we are. He’ll be back.” 

“She’s a good deal prettier to look at though,” Charles countered matter-of-factly. 

“Nonsense, and he wouldn’t leave Charity or the girls,” Phillip told him firmly before moving on to help Tom, the Lord of Leeds, stuff his middle for his costume. 

Charles was not the only one losing faith in Barnum’s return. And it was not just the ringmaster’s absence rattling them. A growing cadre of emboldened hecklers had moved inside to yell their insults from the benches each night. Phillip went to the police but was told nothing could be done. As long as they paid they could not be removed forcibly. Phillip argued with Captain Berghold until the man ordered him to walk out on his own or be escorted out. 

Nothing could be done about the protesters, but he could reassure everyone that Barnum would be back. Early the following morning, he took the North train up to the Barnum estate. The sky was clear and the day cold but windless making it perfect for a brisk walk. The man at the ticket counter gave him directions, and Phillip set out along the road. Taking in deep breaths, he filled his lungs with the unpolluted country air. 

Not a carriage or wagon passed on his quiet, solitary walk. Forest, still silent in its wait for spring, lay along each side of the road. Shortly after an hour, he came to the two large hedges that marked the end of the Barnums’ property. He turned up the maple lined path and passed through the gate. Winter had stripped the trees of their leaves and carpeted them in a crunchy layer across the ground. The bare branches formed a canopy overhead. Cascades of ivy draped the trunks and dappled light completed the effect of a long sylvan archway. 

At the end of the driveway, Barnum’s palatial house sat atop a small rise. Terraced stairs with overflowing planters at each level led up to a glass and iron wrought door. White columns rising two stories high framed the entry and were spread out along the piazza at symmetrical intervals. Elegant and understated despite its size, the mansion was not what Phillip had expected of Barnum. But it was a gift to Charity so her husband had likely curbed his more ostentatious tendencies to please her. 

Phillip rang the doorbell. A blurred figure appeared in the glass before the door opened. “Good morning,” the butler greeted him. “How may I help you?” 

Phillip held out his card. “I’m here to see Mrs. Barnum.” The rest of what he said was interrupted by piercing squeals of delight when Caroline and Helen, peeking over the railing, saw who it was. They did not wait for the butler to let him in but galloped down the stairs calling his name. Their mother, hearing the commotion, soon followed. 

“Come in!” she called, laughing nearly as wildly as her children. 

His arms soon belonged to the two grinning girls who wrapped themselves around them tugging in their turn for his attention. Seeing his service was no longer required for the moment, the butler moved aside to let them all pull Phillip through the door. 

Being swarmed and embraced made Phillip realize just how alone he had felt since Anne left him in the ring. He congratulated Caroline on her ballet recital and delighted Helen with the candies in his pocket. Perhaps because of his own, he did not miss the sadness Charity tried to bury beneath her smile as she looked on.

“We missed you,” Helen told him emphatically, her face flushed with excitement. 

Phillip tweaked her nose. “Missed me or my sweets?” 

“Both!” she admitted with her toothy grin. 

“And what about you, Caroline?” he joked with a wink. 

The older girl’s face suddenly turned vivid pink. She dropped his arm and took a step back. Unable to look up at him, she mumbled, “Both.” 

Charity jumped in although she could not resist an amused twitch of her lips at her daughter's infatuation. “I’ve forgotten myself. Here, Phillip, let Davies take your outer garments. Girls, why don’t you go upstairs for awhile and play with the dolls Daddy just sent you?”

After making him promise to say goodbye before he left, Helen and Caroline went off to do as their mother said. Charity beckoned Phillip to follow her across the cavernous main hall to the drawing room. Decorated in creams, gold, and blush, the room looked like an extension of the woman before him. Large windows provided a view of the vast lawn that sloped down behind the house until it reached the forest. A narrow creek was just visible through the trees. 

He walked over for a closer look. “The sunsets must be beautiful to watch from here,” he observed.

Charity joined him at the opposite end of the window. “They are,” she said wistfully. “I’ve tried to capture them in watercolor, but I’ve never done them justice.” 

She pointed out some of the outbuildings, the stables, and the hedge labyrinth her husband had insisted on planting. “The girls enjoy running through it now, but I probably shouldn’t let them once they can no longer see over the shrubbery. I wouldn’t like to lose my children right under my nose!”

A strange look came over her face, and she fell silent. In the window’s reflection, her gaze was unfocused, staring off at something only she could see. Fine lines had appeared around her nose and mouth since he had last seen her. Her powder blue dress hung loose on her frame. PT’s absence seemed to be taking a toll on her too. 

Delicately she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine you came all this way just to say hello.”

He hadn’t, but their welcome had stirred a part of him that had been starved over the past weeks. That alone was worth the trip. “A friendly face is always worth the extra mile,” Phillip replied solemnly.

Charity blinked and peered at him. He stared back wondering if she saw in him what he saw in her. They were two people adrift with no way to reach the shore. The ones they loved, the ones for whom they had been willing to give up so much, were gone. Neither Charity nor Phillip was enough for the person who was everything to them, and yet they could not let go. Whatever it took from them, they stayed to guard what their loved ones cherished. 

“Lilian and Josephine danced beautifully at the recital,” she said softly. Her words took the wind out of Phillip. They told him she knew everything. Her face, panged and haunted, told him she understood. 

An ache in his throat choked off his reply. 

“I risked it all to be with Phin. The day he showed up at my father’s house, I put my hand in his and thought we’d never let go.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a shadow of a smile at the memory. “I had no idea where we were going, but we were off to a world we’d call our own. Whatever mountains, valleys, deserts, oceans, and anything that came in between we would cross together. Poor or wealthy it didn’t matter to me so long as we had one another and our dreams.”

“But lately I’ve wondered if we made the same choice that day, the day I left my parents. I thought I was what he wanted but now he is off with his nightingale in pursuit of something I could never give him.” 

She hugged herself and took a shuddering breath. “You didn’t make a mistake with Anne, Phillip. I didn’t realize that Phineas never worried about what I was giving up because he’d made a promise to himself that he would surpass it. Anne, though, she knows exactly what it means for you to love her. I saw it, at Mr. Lindsay’s party.”  

Mistaking his slack jaw stare for disbelief, she explained, “She was afraid you would regret what you gave up for her.”

Phillip ran a hand over his hair as his thoughts raced to catch up with what Charity was saying. She thought he was there about his family. How long had she known about Anne and how much did she know?

He was also struck by her confession for what it revealed about the vastness of her loneliness. She, who had never uttered so much as a word of discontent, had let slip her worries about her husband to him. Without PT and unable to confide in her daughters, she had been without a single friend. 

At his continued silence, her face went crimson. She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in mortification. “Phillip, please forgive me.” A tear crept from the corner of her eye and made its way down her cheek. “I’m not myself this morning. I’m sorry. I never should have said those things.”

“I let Anne go,” he said quietly. “It was what she wanted.”

Charity’s eyes flew open, confusion spreading across her blotchy features. “But your family…” 

He grinned ironically. “Built a cage so comfortable it was hard to see I was in one.” 

She buried her face in her hands. “I feel so foolish. I’m sorry. I thought...please forget everything I said.” 

“I can. But it seems we’ve both been in need of a friend. I haven’t been able to tell anyone about Anne. The troupe doesn’t think PT is coming back anymore. They’re worried about what will become of them. The protesters are only getting worse. And it’s all on me to hold everything together.” 

Charity went to a chair and sank down into it. Phillip watched from where he stood. Her gaze moved across the room, her face pensive. “He’s drawn all of us into his dreams, hasn’t he?” she murmured. 

“Or given us the courage to live our own. He’ll be back.”

She bowed her head. Blonde tendrils cascaded over her shoulder to hide her face. “What if he’s not the same?” 

For all of his shortcomings, Barnum would be an imbecile to forget his family for Jenny Lind. Few others would so willingly and lovingly follow him from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs. And none but Charity might love him so forgivingly and unconditionally.

For the first time since PT found him on the stairs outside his play, Phillip envied the man. Nothing and no one but himself stood between him and those he loved. His love posed no danger. It was difficult but not abhorred. Charity could be at his side without ever fearing what would befall them because of that. 

And he was tossing everything aside for fleeting applause and a spotlight that would inevitably fade. 

Anger rose in Phillip. “Then we’ll remind him of who he was,” he declared. “We’ll show him that what he has is greater than what he’s searching for. Barnum’s Circus is the greatest show.”

Charity looked over at him. Slowly a corner of her full mouth lifted until he could see one of her dimples. “You sound like he used to.” Hope was beginning to dawn in her light eyes. 

Phillip felt his own lips turn upward in response. “I  _ am _ his junior partner. Or as he likes to say, an overpaid apprentice.” That drew a chuckle from her. The ocean they had been stranded on no longer seemed so vast. “I came to ask for your help, Charity. No one’s seen you since PT left. If you came downtown, even just once, it might be enough to convince them that he’ll be back.” 

He was prepared to have a difficult time convincing her, so he was surprised when she readily agreed. “I’ve done my best to distract them but the girls miss him desperately. Maybe it will be good for them too.” 

“It will be good for all of us.” 

She agreed that they would come to the city in the next few days. “I know you must have many more important things to attend to, but if you have any time to spare it would mean the world to Caroline and Helen if you could spend a few minutes with them,” Charity said hesitantly. 

“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my time,” he agreed, unable to contain his gratification at the invitation. 

The faintest glow returned to their mother’s face at his acceptance. She rose. “I’ll let them know if you’ll wait here.”

He nodded. Charity started across the room then stopped. She turned back to him. “For what it’s worth, I still don’t think you made a mistake. Even if you let her go.”

Thankfully she did not wait for a reply. Left alone, he turned back to the window mulling Charity’s words. She did not think he’d made a mistake standing by Anne instead of his family. What was it she’d said about Anne? Anne knew what it meant for him to love her.

That was all too true and the heart of their struggle. Other women might have fallen for him when he ran after them and declared their place in his heart. They had certainly fallen for less from him. But not stubborn, noble-minded Anne. Only a flood could sweep her off her feet even when her own heart betrayed her. He loved her for it, and he would never change it although that meant having to let her go. 

Someone skipped up beside him. He looked down into Helen’s beaming face. Despite the tightness of her two straw-colored plaits, her hair had already frizzed into a halo around her face. With her impish eyes and round cheeks she looked like a ray that had escaped the sun. “Mommy says you’re free to see us now?” she asked. “Does that mean you have time to play?”

Phillip felt his face split into a grin. He swooped her up and spun her around making her squeal and giggle. “That’s right,” he told her, slightly out of breath. She was getting too big. “I’m all yours.” 

Helen jumped up and down clapping her hands when he set her down. “Tag?” 

“Anything you want,” he promised with a tug of one of her braids. 

In the course of the late morning and early afternoon, Phillip discovered that Barnum was not the only one in the family with a gift for imagination. Charity had a seemingly endless supply of games. It had been a long time since he could remember laughing as hard as he did while he and Helen scrambled to toss all of their sacks of beans into Charity and Caroline’s bucket before they could fill theirs.    


Feeling hopeful, Phillip returned to the city and the circus. Preparations for that night’s show were well underway by the time he arrived. Animal handlers led the horses and elephants into position while the rail crew hurried about checking all ropes, pulleys, and counterweights. Most of the troupe were in various states of dress. 

“There you are!” Lettie called as he dashed through the fray to his office to change. He waved in acknowledgment. A flicker of the thrill he used to feel in getting ready sparked in him while he dressed. The feeling only intensified when he reached the landing on the stairs and looked out over the activity below him.

Disgraced and disowned, he finally knew where he belonged. Beyond these walls people spent so much of their lives being told what or who they could be. Here they could become anyone they chose. Nothing could match that. That was why this was the greatest show. Barnum may have forgotten, but Phillip promised himself then that he would never lose sight of it. 

Vasily squinted at him on his way past. “You are okay?” he asked shyly. Alec, at the giant’s side, looked up too. 

Phillip grinned. “We’ve got a show! The greatest show.” He nearly laughed at their surprise.

Charity’s return to the circus had the hoped for effect in lifting everyone’s faith in Barnum’s return. Caroline and Helen were eager to be back and lost no time getting underfoot again. From the window in his office, he watched while the girls swarmed Anne begging her for a turn on her hoop. He wished he could hear as one of the children managed to bring a smile to her face, which was all too solemn of late. 

He contented himself with imagining Anne’s encouraging words as she helped Caroline into the hoop. Patiently she corrected the girl’s grip and posture, her fingers no doubt firm yet gentle like they were the few times she took his arm. Entranced, Phillip moved closer to the window. Anne was showing Caroline how to recline on the slender curve of metal and hold herself up. She enlisted Helen’s help to support her sister. They all laughed as the hoop began to spin and Helen scrambled to keep up so that she would not let Caroline fall. 

In Anne’s hands, Caroline grew braver until Anne and Helen were able to let her go. They clapped when Caroline managed to pull herself up and return to the recline all on her own. Helen beckoned her mother over and then dragged her when Charity did not come fast enough for her liking. 

Phillip longed to be part of their circle. He ached remembering the furtive looks he and Anne used to share over the girls’ excitement. Sometimes it was merely amusement at their innocence. Others it was a connection charged with desire and for him the daring to imagine that one day the children between them might be their own. He had guarded that secret vigilantly from Anne. She would have walked away long before if she knew the extent of the life he had built for them in his dreams. Endless nights of caresses, years of presents, a small cottage on a secluded beach, a daughter with her mother’s stubborn pout. 

Figments of his fantasies they would remain, casualties of fate. He could not watch the happy circle any longer. There was no use dwelling on what he could never have. Phillip recommitted himself to his desk not seeing the searching look Anne cast upward.      


The winter winds that whipped in over the surrounding rivers and pierced through every layer to chill to the very bone settled and warmer weather crept in in their wake. Hints of spring further lifted everyone’s spirits and the shadow of Barnum’s absence. As a prank, Alec and Sean loosened the legs on some of the chairs backstage so that their occupants toppled to the floor when they tried to sit down. After the first few laughs and rounds of embarrassed outbursts, Phillip insisted that they fix their mischief before someone got hurt. Deng, one of their victims, retaliated by rubbing crushed rosehip on the inside of their pants. It was several days before the men stopped itching in uncomfortable places.

None of this levity reached Anne who pushed herself to perfection in her training with the new aerialists Silas, Vashti, Naomi, and Antoinette. Phillip no longer watched her with abandon but with growing concern that he saw reflected on WD and Cecelia’s faces. A darling of the crowd, she also became one of the hecklers’ favorite targets. They saved their worst insults and taunts for her. 

These men were far from the other self-proclaimed concerned citizens who had gathered outside. They were punks and drunkards stirring for a fight. Each night he took the ring, Phillip introduced the show as one meant to bring joy and invited anyone who felt otherwise to leave while looking directly at their section. Several times he approached them to demand their silence or exit. With nothing but his fists to reinforce his word, they merely sneered and turned their insults on him. 

Every night she performed, Anne’s face closed a little more, going against all her training and years of practice. 

Phillip debated whether to intervene. Her single-mindedness posed a risk she could get hurt. On the other hand, his interference might only make the situation worse. Not once had Anne sought him out since the night at the theater. And if her brother and friends saw the changes in her that he did, they were far more likely to be able to talk to her.

Then Anne made a mistake.

He was watching from the side of the ring in the shadow of the pillars when it happened. Anne failed to get enough momentum going into her flip. She came out of it late and short. Silas reached, but her hands were too far from his to catch. She plunged out of the air. The crowd gasped as she hurtled toward the ground. Her spotters WD, Sean, Caesar, and Constantine moved in, interlocking their arms, to catch her. Arms folded tightly across her chest, legs perfectly horizontal, Anne landed flat on her back among them. They popped her back onto her feet to wild applause and whistles. 

Anne threw her hands into the air triumphantly and the performers struck their final poses around her ending the act so seamlessly that the audience probably believed the slip part of the finale.

Phillip let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. Of course, Anne had practiced falling from her bar endlessly. Falling was always something that could happen. It just never did to Anne. Not when she was performing. 

He was so preoccupied with following Anne’s movements for any sign that she had been injured that he did not see the men at first. And then out of the corner of his eye he saw falling flakes as if it had begun to snow inside. Startled, his eyes roved for the source. There, in the crowd, the hecklers were on their feet, their faces twisted and red with hate as they screamed and jeered at Anne and the performers. Rolled up newspapers shook in their fists. What he thought were flakes were peanuts that they hurled toward the troupe members. Fortunately all of the debris fell short.  


Over the applause and cheers, Phillip could hear their cruel taunts. “Get the monkey out of here! Go back to the jungle, bitch! Go back to where you came from! You don’t belong here freaks!” 

Anne stood there erect and frozen directly in their line of fire. Heart racing, Phillip sprinted into the arena. There were two acts left but he didn’t care. He was ending the show now before anyone got hurt. 

Not quite sure what he intended, he flung his arm out toward Anne as he came to a stop beside her. Taking his presence as a cue for the finale, the audience cheered and clapped louder. Inside the ring, now in such close proximity to the dancers, he could feel the quivering tension among them like a coiled spring ready to snap. If any of those men took one step out of line, he would lose all control of the situation. 

“Take my hand, Anne,” he insisted. She looked at him, her eyes filled with trepidation. Caught off guard, she hesitated. “Everything will be okay,” he promised. Slowly she lowered her arms, her eyes never leaving his. His fingers closed around her hot, calloused ones. They trembled in his grip. He squeezed them and ran his thumb over the back of her hand as he raised her arm back into the air. 

Several people whistled. Anne gave them a shallow curtsy and straightened again. Phillip looked out over the people in the bleachers. Most of those closest to the mob tried to drown them out, scowled at their antics, or stared in appalled silence. Some half-heartedly joined in. 

He turned back to Anne. She stared straight ahead, her expression impassive as if she could not hear any of the awful things yelled at her. No one except him, with his hand around hers, could see anything but her poise. Phillip saw the band leader waiting for his cue and nodded firmly. The music swelled and then quickly faded to a jaunty tune to play the troupe out.

Phillip let Anne’s hand fall and pivoted to face the others. “Get back to the dressing rooms, now,” he called over the noise of the crowd leaving. “I’ll handle these men.” 

Cecelia, Octavia, and Sonya did not need to be told twice. They enveloped Anne and pulled her along with them toward the tunnel. Charlotte backed away after them, and Deng brought up the rear. Constantine closed in behind WD and Sean who stalled, all of them glaring toward the ruffians who sneered and spat as they stomped over the benches on their way out. 

“Let them go,” Phillip warned. “As long as they’re leaving, let ‘em go.”

WD bristled but turned away when Constantine placed a hand on his shoulder. Charley and Caesar, who stood by watching, took their lead and went to help the aerialists from their hoops. 

Drawing in a breath, Phillip hitched on a smile as if nothing had happened and went to send off that night’s guests. As soon as the last person was out the front doors, he locked them. Although it would limit the troupe’s coming and going, he thought it might be a good idea to install a bar to reinforce the locks.

Backstage everyone swarmed around the makeshift lounge area as those who had witnessed Anne’s fall related the ensuing events. Phillip knew he should try to calm them down but not seeing Anne among them, he opted to seek her out. 

She was not hard to find as there was little privacy outside of the area she and WD had curtained off for themselves. He knocked on the post that supported the fabric walls of their dressing room. At first there was no reply. He tried again. “Come in,” Anne called wearily. 

Phillip stepped through faded velvet drapes. Still in her wig and costume, but now wrapped in a long shawl, Anne sat at her vanity. She looked into the mirror to see whose footsteps were not her brother’s. Their eyes met in the glass, and Anne’s expression turned guarded. Phillip stared back, noticing things about her that he had not been close enough to see over the last weeks. The hollows of her cheeks had sharpened as had the angle of her shoulders. Beneath the layers of makeup, her eyes were tired and her lids heavy. 

Phillip cleared his throat but still his voice cracked when he spoke. “You scared me.” His heart thudded painfully as he tried to push the image of what her body would look like broken and twisted on the ground. 

“You’ve seen me fall before.” 

“Not in a performance.” 

“It was bound to happen,” she said in that carefully matter-of-fact tone she used when she felt vulnerable or exposed. He had to be wary or she would shut him out. 

“You’ve been working so hard to learn all of the new routines. Perhaps we should consider pairing you with WD again for a little while.” 

It was the longest conversation between them since their parting. Finally speaking did not come with the relief Phillip had expected. Instead it felt like he was on the edge of a precipice about to fall off. 

“Switching partners now will set back all the work I’ve done with Silas.” 

“Distraction is death,” he said, repeating the words of her first teacher. “And you’re distracted. Letting you continue to perform like this is dangerous.” 

Anne’s lower lip curled inward. “I’m not distracted,” she snapped. “I made a mistake. I know that. And I was sitting here trying to be sure it did not happen again.” She leaned around to face him. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do what I’ve done nearly my entire life, Phillip Carlyle.”

Phillip closed his eyes and swallowed the angry response on the tip of his tongue. Prodding Anne in her righteousness would not get him anywhere. “I’m sorry. I should not have assumed I know anything about you.” Try as he did, he could not keep the edge from his voice. 

She did not respond. When he looked at her again, the indignation was gone, replaced by a deep sadness that weighed down all of her features. For once, she looked older, rather than younger, than her years. “I’m sorry, Phillip. You were only trying to make sure I was okay. All you’ve done tonight is make sure I was okay. Thank you.”

Unfair as her words had been, the truth was that they were each distracted by the other. Whether it was her intense focus or his wandering mind, they were struggling in their own way to go forward. Maybe it was best that one of them leave. 

Phillip rubbed the cuff of his sleeve as he put words to his emerging thought. “I have to stay as long as Barnum is away, but when he comes back, I will give him my resignation and give up my stake in the circus.”

Anne’s eyebrows rose. “Because of me?” 

“I’m the one who caused this pain. It’s only right I should be the one to fix it.” 

She swung her legs around so that she was looking at him straight on. “Leaving won’t fix this, Phillip. If anything, it will only break more. Everything you’ve done--you’ve kept this circus together. It will be nothing without you.” 

Warmed by her words in spite of himself, he shrugged. “I don’t want you to go. Or get hurt. So it has to be me.” 

Anne shook her head. “This pain, it isn’t your fault, Phillip. It’s because of men like the ones here tonight. It’s people who are ignorant and afraid or whatever twists the good in them, and none of that is your fault.” She drew up her shoulders. “I won’t go. And I won’t get hurt. If you’ll stay.” 

It was as much as he could ask for so he agreed. Anne gave him a pained smile before she turned away to remove her wig. He could tell she wanted to be alone. 

“Good night, Anne,” he told her softly before he left. A weight fell on his shoulder as he made his way back toward the couches where many of the troupe were still huddled. 

He looked up to see WD beside him. Where had he come from so silently and quickly? Phillip frowned. “I kept my promise,” he said tersely. 

The taller man gripped his shoulder. “I know.” WD chewed his lip. “You've always been a man of your word." The unprecedented praise staggered Phillip, and WD disappeared into the dressing room before he could think up a response.  



	19. Through the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, but here you go. xoxo
> 
> I refused to go to bed last night until I posted this update, but by that point I was too tired to leave a little note for all of the loyal RRTN readers who have waited so patiently for this chapter. This update is for you. Even if I’m writing for only 10 or so readers still commenting, your words, encouragement, and questions have meant so much to me. They remind me of all the delight and meaning my best friend and I got out of the fanfics we read growing up, and I love that I can pay it forward. Stay tuned for the ending.

The drape fell closed behind Phillip’s retreating back. Anne buried her face in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. The pain would fade with time but meanwhile, her lips moved silently as she reminded herself of every reason she made the right decision to leave Phillip.

His family. An image of his sisters clinging to his arms came to mind. The memory of his father’s enraged expression on the stairs of the theater nearly forced her tears to the surface. Her fears. Resentment replacing the affection in his eyes as he learned what it meant to be considered an interloper in his own homeland. Children born into an illegitimate union. The danger. The harm that could come to them were their miscegenation discovered.

All of these things buoyed her resolve in moments of weakness but none diminished what she felt for Phillip, the primal anguish that struck her when her hand pulled from his the night she let him go. 

Anne let her hands fall and stared at her reflection. Some women could look tragic. She was not one of them. The sharp point of her chin, firm set of her lips, and thick arch of her eyebrows lent her an air of defiance even at her most vulnerable. Beguiling innocence did not come with narrow eyes like hers. No matter the tumult inside, the face she presented to the world was one of indomitability.  

Still, not everyone was fooled. She ought to apologize to Silas or reassure WD. Instead she was hiding. They would say nothing aloud, but they could not hide the concern that had been visible on their faces for weeks.

Wood creaked and the curtain squealed against the rod again. Anne jerked around, hope that it was Phillip rising within her and quickly disappearing upon seeing her brother. Feeling guilty at his worried frown, she tried to quell her disappointment. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” WD insisted.

Anne sighed. “Yes. Everything went as we’d practiced.”

The corner of her brother’s eye twitched. “Everything except the routine you rehearsed,” he said too nonchalantly. Like Phillip, he was trying to sidestep an argument with her.

“I’m trying,” she told him. “I’m trying to forget about him.”

WD’s eyes darted away. “It doesn’t work that way, Annie. It’s just,” he lifted a shoulder trying to find the right words. “Finding a way through. You will. You always come through.” For much of their lives, her brother had acted as more of a father to her than a sibling. Only recently had the age difference between them seemingly diminished leaving them to make their way through the world as equals, both lost and uncertain. Rarely had she seen her brother look so frequently helpless.

In part, it was because of his own inexperience with love. Raising her was always his first priority. Women came and went, none able to compete with the duty he felt he owed to his younger sister. When she prodded him about it, he waved her off, insisting instead on his pride in the woman she became. Right now, she did not feel particularly deserving of that praise or sacrifice.

Anne turned back to her mirror. Tears that she did not want her brother to see pricked at her eyes. “I’m trying,” she repeated.

He sighed heavily. Through her lashes, she could see him watching her in the mirror, a deeply troubled look pinching his eyebrows together. It was an expression he wore more and more but still did his best not to let her see.

WD drew the divider between them. Tugging off her wig, Anne let her hair fall free. In contrast to the perfect pink coif, her own curls were soaked and matted with sweat. She unthreaded them from their braid. Carefully, she set about combing out the tangles, starting with the ends then working her way up the strands. The patience the task required calmed her, and by the time her brother pulled the curtain back, she was able to offer up a smile.  

Her understanding with Phillip at least brought some peace between them. Some of the tension receded from their encounters, and he appeared more relaxed and sure of himself as he directed the circus’ affairs. No longer did he watch her surreptitiously from the shadows though. He stood in plain sight, arms crossed with an inscrutable turn to his lips.

As whispers started up again about the two of them, Anne thought to ask him to be more discreet but quickly dismissed the impulse. If they could not have one another, they could at least make the most of what was left to them.

Over and over in her mind, she replayed the moment after her fall when he ran out to protect her from the crowd’s cruel taunts. Although she hardly noticed it then under the crush of her fear, Anne remembered later how Phillip gripped her hand long after he could have let her go. A lesser man would have turned his back on her after what she’d done to him.

Part of her had hoped that in the wake of her rejection, Phillip would turn on her. Anger might have eased their separation. At least she would know she made the right decision. Instead, his continued kindness to her and dedication to the circus were only leading her to fall more deeply in love with him.

Anne wanted more than anything to leave all of this behind and nothing more than to stay. The back and forth within her led to some good. She became entirely deaf to the shouts of the rabble in the audience. Still, after the night her friends rushed her out of the arena, Phillip moved their aerial act up in the show.

 “I can handle those idiots,” Anne protested grimly when he announced it during their practice. “I was just caught off guard that night.” She did not want to be the one to cost them their place in the finale.

Phillip shook his head. “It’s a matter of safety, Anne. If they get out of hand, I don’t want any of you on the front line.” He looked from her to Vashti, Antoinette, and Naomi who along with WD and Silas were gathered in a tight circle at his sides. “That goes for the dancers as well. I’ll be pulling some of them.”

“We can’t let these hooligans ruin our show,” argued Vashti. As far as appearances went, she was nearly Anne’s opposite in every way: short and full-figured with unerringly straight hair. But they could be equally obstinate. With both of them against him, Phillip looked to Silas for help. To Anne and Phillip’s surprise, WD was the one to take his side.

“He’s right. They’re feeling bold. There’s no telling what they’ll do. Better we change the show than one of you gets hurt. They might never raise a hand against one of their own, but they won’t think twice about coming for you.”

“Let ‘em,” grumbled Vashti. “If their own mothers couldn’t teach ‘em respect, I will.”

All of them but Phillip laughed. He had never seen her wield her carved club against someone stupid enough to cross her. She’d left more than a few broken bones in her wake. However, high above the ring in her hoop, she would not have her club. Or any protection.

Antoinette chimed in. “Then we’ll be in the opening act. If you’re going to move us, we ought to have a say in where we go.”

Phillip put up his hands. “We’ll see about it.”

A sly expression came over Vashti’s face. “If we don’t get to be in the finale, why not the opening? Right, Anne?”

Anne’s eyes darted around the circle. Phillip’s face flushed, whether with anger or embarrassment she was unsure. WD bristled at the position Vashti was trying to put her in. Silas cast his friend a sharp warning look, but Naomi and Antoinette watched Anne with interest.

She crossed her arms. “It’s not my place to say."

Vashti looked as if she were about to retort, but Phillip spoke first. “If you, or anyone for that matter, would like to petition their place in the show, you go directly through me in PT’s absence. I will consider your request but know that for the time being, everyone’s safety is my first concern. And Vashti.” His searing gaze fell on the petite woman. “If I ever hear of you using my regard for Anne to ply favors again, even in jest, your act’s order in the show will be the least of your worries.”

Phillip stalked off. Everyone turned to stare at Anne. Unsure how to react to his open declaration, she shrugged. It was not as if he’d admitted anything they didn’t know. Fortunately, Vashti was never one to be abashed for long. Her grin, which had slipped at Phillip’s reprimand, returned as wicked as ever. “Anne, he sure is lucky you’re too honorable to string him along for all he’s worth. He’d try to give you the sun if you asked.”

Antoinette rolled her eyes. “He’d probably find a way too.”

Even Anne could not help laughing as they returned to practice. Silas warned Vashti to watch her tongue before she got the lot of them fired, but they all knew there was no use in pleading with her to have any tact. Part of Anne appreciated being able to acknowledge what existed between her and Phillip, and even relieved to find a way to laugh about it.

However, a glance at Phillip revealed he saw none of the humor in Vashti’s antagonizing. He stood on the far balcony overlooking the arena, the rigidity of his shoulders visible from the platform where Anne waited to jump. Among the vastness of empty seats, he looked commanding but lonely.

Her heart quickened pushing the breath from her chest. After everything, he still loved her.

At their next break, Anne slipped away from her friends to join him. As if sensing her presence, he turned when she emerged from the narrow stairwell. Phillip watched her through the gaps in the benches as she watched him searching for any sign her presence was unwelcome. Recovering from his hesitation, he moved toward her and away from the railing where everyone would be able to see them. The distance between them closed quickly leaving her feeling slightly lightheaded as she caught a whiff of the scent of his eau de cologne. She opened her mouth to apologize for Vashti, but he spoke first. 

“How do you bear all of this in silence?” he asked tersely. While her curls fought to escape their braid and her sweat darkened practice outfit clung to her beneath her shawl not a hair or thread was out of place on his person. The dark gray suit he wore brought out the extraordinary blue of his eyes, a trait she once dismissed but now found herself vulnerable to. A glance or shift in their light could send her thoughts scattering in all directions.  

“A lifetime of practice,” she replied without thought, taking the last steps to meet him. In her heeled gold boots, she was tall enough that he had to look up at her. Not since the night he pled with her to believe that they were meant for one another had they stood so close. The tension between them fluctuated between welcome and excruciating. Sadness flooded Phillip’s face. He looked as if he wanted to take back his words.

Phillip slid his hands into his pockets. “I was hoping you might have some reassuring words of wisdom but blunt truth works just as well.” 

Anne smiled in spite of herself. “You haven’t had a lifetime of practice,” she offered.

“Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be where we are now.” In the dust speckled light, his haunted eyes shook her resolve.

“Phillip.” The emotions that gripped his jaw echoed in her heart, and she tried to reach out to him but her arm fell short. Anne let it drop back to her side. “We still have all of this and everyone here. It’s less than what we want, but more than I ever dreamed of growing up. And that’s because of you.”  

It was what she told herself over and over when regret gnawed at her but now that she had to convince Phillip of their truth, the words did not feel so rote. They each had a home and family, people who loved and cared about them. Unlike so many, they had a place, in the circus, where they could live beyond the judgment of the world. And in this space, one Phillip helped to create, they were able to be just Anne and Phillip, free of the consequences of their names and lineages.

Here, she could love him. Even if she could never tell him. But she could come close. “We have a place where we can be ourselves. I have a place where I can be me--at least for a little while--because of you.”

His dark brows lifted in recognition. He remembered their argument on the way back from England and what she’d said about not feeling as if she could truly be herself around him. That fight seemed forever ago.

“Then I know if I accomplish nothing else, I’ve done something I can be proud of,” he told her.

A cold shiver crawled its way down her back. “You have more than that to be proud of.” The words carried greater weight than she intended, and neither of them seemed able to find their footing in the silence that followed.

Phillip recovered first, although his crimson face matched the burning in Anne’s own cheeks. Sheepishly, he told her, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About my regard for you. That was unnecessary. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m afraid we are far past the point where it could go unacknowledged,” she allowed. “But thank you.”

“About the change--they aren’t too angry with me, are they?” he asked, clumsily trying to move them toward more neutral ground.

Anne shrugged. “Vashti likes to stir the pot. In the end, we know you are doing what you believe best to keep us safe.”

Phillip’s shoulders drooped. “I’m not sure it’s enough. Without my--” He winced and looked away. He recovered too quickly for Anne to question him about what he'd almost said. “Without Barnum, I don’t want to make any decisions that could have too great an impact on our revenue. But I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Despite their efforts, they kept shifting perilously close to the intimacy they shared over the summer. Anne drew back.

“You’re doing your best,” she repeated. “I came to tell you not to worry about Vashti. It seemed to bother you.” Unsure what else to say, Anne pivoted and hurried back along the aisle and the benches. By the time she reached the stairs, she was going full tilt to escape him.

There was at least one upside to Phillip’s show changes. She no longer had to wear her wig or costume for the entire night. Instead, as soon as they finished their act, she and WD changed back into their clothes. WD joined the group of performers clustered on the sofas backstage. Anne preferred to stay in their dressing room where she could avoid the significant glances when Phillip’s name was mentioned.

Cecelia helped her drag a velvet upholstered settee leftover from the circus’s days as a museum into her curtained dressing area. With some rearranging of her vanity, the new addition was able to fit against the back wall. In the cool weather, the brick was cold but a few pillows and a blanket that they found in a trunk provided a buffer.

“It’s still strange to spend so much time sitting around,” Cecelia complained, straightening from her end of the settee. She pressed her palms to her hips and stretched her back. Anne tucked some of the hair that had slipped from her bun behind her ear. The settee was heavier than it looked and beads of sweat rolled down her torso.

“I feel lazy,” Anne sighed, collapsing onto the seat. It would be perfect for reading. Bundles of books, ones she suspected were from Phillip, regularly appeared on her vanity, and she was amassing a small collection. Nothing compared to his but more than she’d ever been able to call her own.

Cecelia deliberately fell across her, knocking her friend back against the wall and drawing an oomph from her. “Whatever shall we do with ourselves? Idle hands are the devil’s workshop after all.”

“Getting off me would be a start,” giggled Anne, pushing at her friend. For someone so small, Cecelia could be hard to move. “You’re going to tear my dress if you continue to pull at it.”

 “Well we can’t have that.” The dancer hauled herself up off Anne’s lap but settled for leaning her back against the taller woman’s side using her shoulder as a head rest.

In the last weeks, nobody, not even WD, had been as constant as Cecelia. From the first they woke to when they closed their eyes at night, she did all she could to help ease Anne’s pain. Cecelia made sure she ate when her appetite failed. She dragged Anne along on her errands and even arranged a few visits to Mrs. Alston. Although Anne’s foolhardiness in falling in love with a man she could not have baffled the boarding house matron, she embraced and comforted her former border’s student as she would her own child.

Although Cecelia initially brought Anne to Mrs. Alston for comfort, the two women were forming their own bond. It was clear that as well as she hid it, Cecelia missed having a mother.

Anne shivered as she cooled off and pulled her shawl closer around her. “We could sneak into the audience and watch,” she suggested.

“I’d like to so I could dump a bucket of water over those bastards for harassing us.” Deng’s language was rubbing off on her lover. “The colder the better.” They both grinned.

“There’s still some snow in the alley,” Anne said mischievously. They could never follow through on the idea, but it was gratifying to picture the spluttering looks of indignation on the men’s faces, their foul lips blue with cold. She felt the depth of Cecelia’s sigh against her arm.

“If only we could teach them a lesson.”

They would have to put their faith in a higher justice. Anne stretched out her sore legs in front of her. Falling always resulted in her muscles subsequently clenching tighter onto the bar. She winced and tried to massage out some of the tautness. Cecelia sat up to free her arm.

“Are you…” Cecelia trailed off and began to sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

 Anne rolled her eyes. With the number of animals and people crammed backstage, it was impossible to smell anything but sawdust, sweat, fodder, and dung. For the most part, she was accustomed to the reek, but still she tried not to breathe too deeply. “Smell what?”

“It smells like.” A feral bellow drowned out whatever she said. The two exchanged a startled glance when the floor shook. Screams and shouting broke out. Cecelia raced to the curtain and drew it back. “Oh my god!” she cried. Anne hurried to her side, sore legs forgotten.

Chaos swept through backstage. Eyes rolling with fear, horses shattered everything in their path as they bolted through running people. Their handlers chased or fled after them. The crew slid recklessly down ladders and poles from their posts overhead, crashing into people below.

 To her left, O’Malley frantically waved down anyone trying to wrangle the animals, screaming, “Don’t worry about roundin’ ‘em up! Let ‘em go!”

Anne turned to her right, toward the ring. A dusky haze blurred the air and cast shadows over the figures that scrambled through it. People emerged from the cloud coughing. Over the frightened trumpeting of the elephants and whinnies of the horses, she could hear hissing and what sounded like a storm trapped inside. Orange light leapt and spread behind the cloud of smoke shifting toward them.

The circus was on fire!

Panic swept through Anne. Where was WD? She bolted into the fray, searching the fleeing faces for her brother’s. Someone tried to tug her back, but she shook them off.

“WD!” she screamed and choked on the dust and smoke clogging the air. Coughing, she jostled and dodged her way against the rush of people trying to escape. “WD!” The smoke got thicker forcing her to draw her shawl over her nose and mouth. It was growing harder to see and her eyes burned. The heat grew more and more intense as she fought her way toward the sofas where she’d last seen her brother. Sweat poured down her face and drenched her dress.

Before her, flames leapt hungrily across everything in their path. They swept up the wooden support beams and giant banners hung along the walls. The ropes of the fly system blackened and curled. Her way was disappearing in a wall of smoke and heat.   

Hardly able to see, Anne stretched her free hand out in front of her to feel her way forward. More than once she stumbled over something made invisible by the smoke. The roar of the fire soon drowned out all other noise. Her throat and lungs burned with each breath she took. Her eyes ran. There was no sign of her brother. Or anyone. Without knowing where the fire started, she had no idea whether he’d been able to escape. By now, the heat of the blaze scorched every part of her flesh that wasn’t covered. If he was trapped in the flames, there was little hope.

Someone yanked the back of her shawl, nearly pulling her off her feet. Anne staggered and jerked around breaking free of the person’s grasp. “What the fuck are you doing?” Deng screamed hoarsely. Soot streaked the woman’s face and neck. Matted hair loose and almond shaped eyes red, Deng looked like a demon out of a ghost story.

“WD,” was all Anne could manage through her burning throat. It felt as if she were swallowing the fire itself.

Deng grabbed the neck of her dress and hauled her down. Putting her lips to Anne’s ear, she croaked, “We have to go. Here.” She forced a wet rag over Anne’s nose and mouth. “Keep this on your face and follow me.”

Anne did as she was told with the piece of cloth but still hesitated. Deng snarled. “He’s expecting you to be smart enough to save yourself. Come on before it’s too late.” Grip firmly wound in the opening of Anne’s dress, the smaller woman began to drag her back from the approaching flames.

Eyes leaking from the smoke and fear for her brother, Anne finally gave in and followed. Deng ran bent double, keeping them as low to the ground as possible. On both sides, the fire was catching up and closing in on them. They tripped and stumbled their way as fast as they could through the debris scattered in the wake of everyone’s flight. Anne could barely see and had no idea how Deng was leading but the other woman seemed sure of herself despite having to pause every now and then to find her way.

At long last, a thin breeze pushed back against the heat and suffocating air. They ran toward it until they burst into the night. Anne hurtled past her guide, sprinting down the street toward the front of the now engulfed building. Fire engines lined up along the way, their firefighters rushing desperately to contain the fire before it spread. Bells clanged wildly as more engines came to help.

Anne skidded around the corner. People crowded the square outside the circus and stared up in horror at the scene unfolding before them. And there, in front, her brother struggled desperately against three men trying to restrain him. “WD!” she screamed, leaping over a hose and running to him. At the sound of his name, he turned.

“Here she is! Here she is!” someone yelled as Anne dashed the last few feet into her brother’s open arms. He picked her up, clutching her against him as he carried her into the crowd. His hold hurt her ribs and raw lungs, but she clung to him as tightly.

“Phillip!” someone yelled behind them.

Anne looked up from his shoulder at the shout. Flames forked through every window and doorway of their circus lighting up the night like a towering beacon. Everything inside was destroyed--their costumes, her wig, the pile of books from Phillip she’d left behind in her haste to find her brother.  

 Phillip. She looked for him among the clusters of their friends. But he was not with Alec, Vasily, the twins, Eng, Chang, and Caesar. Silas clutched a sobbing Annette and Naomi to him while Vashti looked on with tears streaming down her face. He was not with them either. Growing panicked, Anne pushed away from WD. The ends of her hair singed, Deng held onto Cecelia. Octavia, expression frozen in shock, stood among several of the dancers still in their costumes. In front of Anne, Mrs. Barnum clung to her daughters and Lettie sobbed into her shawl. Everyone was there but Phillip.

A hunch began to dawn on her, feeding her terror. But it was impossible. WD would have gone in search of her before Phillip did. And he was here safe at her side.

“Where is he?” she screamed, rounding on her brother. The noise of the fire, alarms, and warning shouts of the firemen trying to push the crowd farther from danger nearly drowned her out. “Where’s Phillip?”

WD turned slightly to look over his shoulder. Only then did Anne notice Barnum. Wide-eyed, he stared hard at his family before he turned and ran into his burning circus, stripping his coat off as he went. The crowd cried out as one. Mrs. Barnum nearly toppled backward with the effort of holding onto her girls. “Daddy no!” one of them wailed. Lettie wrapped her arms around her.

Anne yanked at WD’s sleeve. “Where is Phillip?” she pleaded. When he turned back to her, his face was filled with such tenderness and pity that she knew what the answer was.

Phillip was inside looking for her.

Dozens of thoughts spun through her head. Go after him. Pray. Stay put. Barnum was risking his life to save Phillip but what if he couldn’t find him? If only she’d thought to check outside before going in search of her brother. How could Phillip have done such a foolish thing, her mind screamed even while she berated herself for her own stupidity.

A thunderous crack drew everyone’s eyes upward. The dome of the building faltered then collapsed, shattering beams and glass in its descent through the weakened structure. Crying out, the crowd surged backward. Embers on the wind stung Anne’s eyes as she stared numbly over her brother’s shoulder still clutching his sleeve. Part of the top floor crumbled inward. 

Somewhere in the inferno, Phillip was dead or dying.

 Anne made a strangled, gasping noise before she crumpled into WD’s arms. If he hadn’t instinctively moved closer, she might have kept falling. His arm circled her in an iron grip and his firm yet gentle hand pressed her face to his shoulder. The violence of her own sobs scared her. It felt as if she would shatter into a million pieces if her brother let go of her.

Hands touched her back and shoulders. WD rocked her gently, his murmurs unable to penetrate the ringing in her ears. She clung to her brother but longed for Phillip’s embrace.

WD’s arm loosened, and then he was pulling her face from his shoulder. Automatically, she gripped his forearms. His lips were moving, but she could neither hear nor make sense of what he was saying. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he forced her face around. A man stumbled down the front steps of the building with someone clutched in his arms. It was Barnum carrying a blackened Phillip.

Anne whimpered. Phillip wasn’t moving.

Coughing, Barnum fell to his knees at her feet and lowered his burden to the ground. His fingers scrambled for Phillip’s neck, seeking a pulse. “He took in a lot of smoke,” wheezed the errant ringmaster. “He’s still breathing.” Weakly, he waved over help.

Hope surged in Anne. But Phillip was so completely still and silent that she was afraid to let herself believe lest the ringmaster be mistaken.

Firefighters swarmed around them carrying a stretcher that they lowered to the ground. Gently, they lifted Phillip’s limp form onto the carrier and ran off into the night. Before anyone could stop her, Anne tore off after them. She had to know for herself that Phillip lived. Lungs still burning from her escape, she chased down the men carrying Phillip to a wagon waiting not far down the street. They slid the stretcher onto the bed.

“Wait!” Anne screamed when the wagon lurched away.

The remaining firefighters turned to look at her. Reaching them, she lied, “I work for him. I need to go with him. He’d want me to go with him!”

They stared at her incredulously but after a breathless moment, one of them hailed the retreating wagon. “Oy Harper! Hold up! Take her with you!”

She gasped her thanks and hurried to scramble into the bed. She was barely situated when the horses took off again at a trot. Kneeling next to Phillip, she took his hand. It was hot and gritty in hers. Though the darkness obscured the rise and fall of his chest, a pulse beat persistently if lightly in his wrist. “Don’t die,” she prayed. He did not stir.

But he was alive. Somehow, he was alive. Anne kissed his limp hand and held it to her heart. The wagon shook and jostled them on the potholed roads. Each time, she gently pressed her fingers to his wrist. His pulse remained steady.

“Can you hear me?” she sniffed. There was no reply. Worried he would get too cold, she searched the back of the wagon for a blanket, but there was none. Moving awkwardly with one hand so she could keep hold of his, she pulled off her shawl and placed it over him.  

At the hospital, the same lie allowed her to stay while Phillip was rushed off. When one of the nurses gave her feet a hard stare, Anne looked down. Gold boots were hardly proper attire for the servant they all believed her to be. But as long as they did not throw her out, the woman could think what she wanted.

Another, more kind nurse, dressed in a crisp blue gown and full white pinafore, led her up a sweeping staircase to a cavernous room lined with beds. To her surprise, not a one was filled. Lamps at precise intervals along towering columns were the only source of light in the hall since muslin drapes covered each of the tall windows. The woman led Anne down the row of beds to one at the end. She motioned to a spindly chair across from the foot of the bed. “It may be some time before they bring him out,” the nurse told her. “But you can wait here.”

Anne barely remembered to thank the woman. “He’s going to live?” she asked, trying to speak with only as much interest as a servant might have.

Keen gray eyes swept over her. With a bonnet covering her hair, it was hard to determine how old the nurse was but the lines around her mouth and eyes seemed to be a result of smiling rather than age. She was perhaps only a few years older than Phillip, at most. “Very likely, yes. Now sit down before you faint on me. You’ve had a long night already.”

Anne nodded her relief, rather than risk opening her mouth and losing control of her tears, and dropped into the chair. Satisfied her charge would stay conscious, the nurse poured a tin cup of water at the bed’s side table and brought it over to Anne. “Drink all of this before you try talking again.” 

The water was lukewarm and soothing. The first sips cleared her mouth and the rest rinsed her raw throat. “Thank you,” she said when she was done.

“You’re welcome. What’s your name?” the nurse asked. 

“Anne Wheeler.”

“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Anne. You may call me Marjorie, but if you need anything ask for Nurse Rose.” Speaking briskly with a hint of embarrassment, Marjorie added, “I’m afraid we cannot treat you in this wing.”

“That’s fine. I’m not hurt. If I can just wait.” Anne flailed for an excuse. “There are people who will want to know where he is and that he’s safe.”

Feathery, reddish eyebrows rose, but Marjorie only said, “I’ll check with the doctor to see how the patient is faring. What’s his name?” 

“Phillip.” 

“And his last name?

 Reluctantly, Anne gave it to her. As she feared, the woman reacted with astonishment. “Of the New York Carlyle family?” Anne nodded. Another time she might have cared about the appraising look Marjorie now passed over her but there were far more important things that preoccupied her. Quickly recovering her professionalism, the nurse said briskly, “Let’s get you washed up before I go.”

She brought over the basin from the side table and placed it on Anne’s lap. Instructing Anne to place her hands inside of it, she came back with a towel over her shoulder, vials in one hand and a pitcher in the other. Kneeling in front of Anne, Marjorie scrubbed her hands and face clean. 

“I know you’re anxious to know about Mr. Carlyle,” the nurse said quietly while she worked, “but the doctors are doing their best for him and there’s no reason you need to wait in further discomfort.” Despite her height, Marjorie had a small face and nose that were often overwhelmed by her expressive eyebrows and wide, mobile mouth. “Tell me what happened to bring you here.” 

The nurse listened sympathetically while Anne haltingly told her what she knew of the fire. Marjorie paused her ministrations to grip Anne’s hand when she recounted watching the building fall in with Phillip inside. Choking on her words caused her to cough. Marjorie rubbed her back in calming circles until the hacking subsided then refilled Anne’s cup with water. “Sip this slowly,” she instructed. “The coughing should go away soon. It’s your lungs reacting to the smoke.”

Anne thanked her. Marjorie waved it away. Although she did not press Anne to finish her story, the nurse asked a few questions that could give the doctors clues to things they may have missed in treating Phillip. However, without knowing what led to the fire or how long Phillip had spent inside before he was rescued, Anne could offer little additional help. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking.  

Marjorie made a comforting shushing noise. “It’s good he has someone here with him.”   

One of the vials contained the soap that the nurse used to scrub the soot from Anne’s face and hands. The other was filled with a clear gel known as aloe. Marjorie spread a thin layer over all of Anne’s exposed flesh. A cooling sensation assuaged the drying effect of the smoke. By the time the nurse was done, Anne felt immensely better, her fear no longer so overwhelming.

“Try to rest,” Marjorie told her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with news of the doctors’ progress. Remember to ask for me if you need anything.” She left, carrying off the murky water and dirty towel with her.

Attempting to do as the nurse recommended, Anne closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Instead of rest, her mind flooded with the memory of the collapsing building and Phillip’s motionless, burnt body. Anne gave up on rest and focused on her next steps. Once she knew Phillip’s state, she would have to find a way to get word to the circus and his family. Perhaps there was someone who could run the messages for her. She didn’t want to leave Phillip alone.

She wrapped her arms around herself. The warmth from the braziers throughout the hospital wing were not enough to completely ward off the lingering winter chill. Blankets were draped over the foot of the bed frames, but Anne did not dare take one without permission. She was lucky enough to be allowed to stay.

Although she did not sleep, she must have fallen into a stupor because she did not notice Marjorie’s return until the nurse stood right in front of her. Suppressing a cry of surprise, Anne looked up hopefully. Amusement lit the nurse’s eyes. “The doctors had a far harder time assuring him of your safety than they did of taking care of his wounds. They ended up giving him a dose of chloroform so they could work uninterrupted. Based on what you told me, he is quite fortunate to have emerged with only two broken ribs and a few burns, cuts, and bruises.”

Before she could finish her report, two people burst into the ward. Barnum, still wearing his torn and stained clothes, and, on his heels, Penelope. “Anne!” they cried.

Penelope reached her first and threw her arms around Anne. “Thank God! Are you hurt?” Her face was cold against Anne’s, but her embrace was warm and hard. Anne hugged back, her fingers getting tangled in Penelope’s loose hair.

“Are you okay?” Barnum echoed overhead. “Where’s Phillip?”

“I’m fine,” Anne managed. Penelope drew back as if to see for herself. Touched by Phillip’s friend’s fretting on her behalf, Anne could not help a smile. “Nurse Rose was just giving me a report on his condition.”

If she was surprised by the closeness between Anne and Penelope, Marjorie kept it to herself while Anne introduced the new arrivals. The nurse relayed all she’d just told Anne and confirmed that Phillip would make a full recovery. “I thought you might like this back,” she said, pulling Anne’s shawl from her arm. Penelope took it from her and wrapped it around Anne, fussing over tucking it just so to keep Anne warm.

The nurse excused herself, promising on her way out that she would let them know when Phillip was to be brought to his bed. Left alone, Barnum and Penelope alternately peppered her with questions and filled her in on the cause of the fire.

 “It was those men in the audience,” Barnum said grimly. The rolled-up remnants of his shirt sleeves revealed forearms crusted in grime and dried blood. He did not seem to notice. “They confronted Phillip and refused to leave, although WD apparently threw the first punch.” Anne grimaced at her brother’s impulsiveness but was also surprised that he’d come so readily to Phillip’s aid. “A fight broke out and one of the,” Barnum glanced at Penelope and revised what he was going to say, “one of the men started the fire in retaliation.”

Anne learned that it was Phillip who first realized she was missing while he, WD, and others helped everyone out of the burning building. WD’s hands were full at the time, which was why they were able keep him and not Phillip from going back in after her.

Regret made Anne’s stomach sink. Everyone else had thought to escape first. Why hadn’t she? If Phillip and Barnum had died, it would have been her fault. A taste of that guilt was too much, and she did her best to shove the thought away. Phillip was hurt but he would recover. She should only be grateful her mistake hadn’t been fatal.

Barnum ran a hand through his hair. Flakes of dust fluttered to his slumped shoulders. “Everything’s gone,” he said, his voice catching. “After the roof fell, it wasn’t long before the rest of the building gave way. But everyone’s safe, and that’s all that matters.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, Anne.” And to her amazement, tears cleared tracks down his filthy cheeks. 

Anne rose. Barnum was flawed. He’d made mistakes. He’d been selfish, greedy, and heedless in the rush of success and fame. But he came back. He risked his life to save Phillip’s. And without him, Phillip would be dead.

He was not the only one who had not valued enough what he had. She touched his arm. “I understand.” Caught off guard, Barnum hesitated, then clasped her hand. 

“I have to get back to everyone. And my wife,” he told her. “Anything you’d like me to tell your brother?”

Anne said the first thing that came to mind. “Stop throwing punches?” There was a pause, and then they all laughed. It was hardly appropriate, but as Barnum and Anne knew well, laughter stole the triumph from tragedy. They would need much more of it in the days to come.

Barnum promised to let WD know that she was not hurt and, if she could, she would be staying by Phillip’s side for the time being. Anne hoped her brother would understand.

She turned to Penelope when he was gone. Becoming serious, she said, “I suppose I’ll have to go when his parents arrive.”

Penelope stared at her, clearly bewildered. “But they’re not coming.”

It was Anne’s turn to be confused. If Penelope knew about what happened, surely Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle would know by now. “Did no one tell them?” she asked, trying to make sense of the look dawning on Penelope’s face.

Phillip’s friend gasped and put her hand to her cheek. “Oh goodness. He must have…didn’t he tell…” She trailed off trying to regain control of her stammering thoughts.

But it was too late. A secret Phillip had been keeping from her was emerging into the open. Nausea stirred in the pit of Anne’s stomach. Dreading the answer, she asked, “What happened with his parents?”

Flustered, Penelope spread her fingers across the front of her coat. “It’s not my place,” she replied softly. But the sadness in her eyes was saying what remained of what she refused to tell.

“Are they no longer speaking to him?” Anne pressed. Had the ward not been empty, Penelope might have been able to dodge the intensity of Anne’s stare. But they were alone, and there was nowhere for her to turn that Anne would not hound her for the truth.

Conceding, Penelope shook her head. “They disowned him. They forced him to choose between them and you, and he chose you.”

Overwhelmed by the enormity of all that Phillip had silently endured over the last weeks, Anne sank down into the chair. She shook as violently as she had when she thought he was dead.

Penelope flew to her side to take her hands. “Oh Anne, he probably didn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened! And none of what happened is your fault. Phillip was at odds with his father for years.”

There was something his friend did not seem to know. “I told him we couldn’t be together,” Anne confessed. “After the night at the theater.” It was Penelope’s turn to look horrified. “He didn’t tell you?” 

She waited for Penelope’s inevitable disgust or anger but it did not come. Instead, she sighed. “No. His parents were convinced I played a hand in the falling out he had with them. I had to pretend to cut ties with Phillip to keep their trust so that perhaps I can reunite him with his sisters soon. They’ve taken all of this very poorly, especially Josephine. She’s run away several times since. Phillip and I have only been able to communicate through a few brief notes, but looking back I should have suspected something since he never mentioned you.” Penelope fell quiet.

“I’ve made such a mess,” Anne murmured although she wasn’t sure if she meant tonight, Phillip’s family, or everything that had happened between her and Phillip.

“It only looks like that from where you’re standing, Anne, but it’s not nearly as bad as you think,” Penelope soothed. “You’ll see.”

Anne didn’t think so but she didn’t have the strength to argue.

They were still hand in hand, Anne in the chair and Penelope at her side, when Marjorie returned to let them know Phillip would be out soon. Shortly after, two men entered the ward with a stretcher between them. A third man followed close behind. With the nurse’s help, they transferred Phillip to his bed. While the stretcher bearers and Marjorie made sure he was situated in a way that would not hurt his ribs, the third man broke away to speak to Penelope.

“Are you Mrs. Carlyle?” he asked. He was a short man, hardly taller than the woman he spoke to, who wore his graying hair closely cropped. His black suit was made of fine cloth and well-tailored. “I’m Dr. Shipley.”

“Thank you for the introduction, Dr. Shipley. Mr. Carlyle isn’t married. I’m merely a friend of his. Mrs. Vandorn. And this is Miss Wheeler. She’s the one who came with Mr. Carlyle.”

The doctor looked between the two of them as if they were colluding on a joke. Grateful that Penelope was at her side for this first time, Anne rose. “It is a pleasure to meet you Dr. Shipley. I’m the one he was asking for.”

Behind Dr. Shipley, who was bright red, both stretcher bearers stared at her open mouthed. No one needed to say she was not who they expected to be the ‘Anne’ that made Phillip so anxious. 

Dr. Shipley looked around quickly then leaned in to say quietly, “Child, he was beside himself when he came in, quite distraught and out of his right mind. You ought to understand when I say I believe discretion is best in this case.”

It was a very good thing Phillip was still under from the chloroform or he might have hurt himself further right then.

While Anne was searching for the best reply, Penelope stepped in. Her voice was accommodating but dangerous and only loud enough to be heard among the three of them. “Dr. Shipley, my older brother served as a doctor in the war. He once told me that every invalid’s greatest comfort and cure are the ones he holds dear. We appreciate all you have done for Mr. Carlyle, but if you do not wish to respect his wishes where Miss Wheeler is concerned, I will gladly find another physician who will or send my own.”

Dr. Shipley’s face reddened further. “No need, Mrs. Vandorn. I am,” he struggled for a diplomatic word, “pleased to honor them.” Still, he gave his update on Phillip to Penelope. Under the nightgown he wore, Phillip’s torso was bound to help his ribs heal properly. There were several stitches in his left hand. The wound on his forehead was too shallow to need a bandage but should be cleansed regularly and watched for any infection. He could experience some coughing as a result of his smoke inhalation and injured ribs, in which case, a pillow held to his chest would help ease some of the pain. 

“How long will he have to stay here?” Anne asked.

The doctor pursed his lips. “No more than two days,” he said curtly. She hoped it would be sooner as he marched off gesturing grandly for his gawking assistants to follow. Penelope glared after him, muttering something under her breath.

Anne moved to Phillip’s side and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He slept deeply, his injured hand resting over his chest. She slid her fingers under his. Faintly, his heartbeat reassured her that he was going to be all right.

Dark bruises were forming around his left eye and on his jaw. Those and the swelling on his right cheek were most likely from the fight before the fire. His skin was still angry red in some places and soot covered in others.

“I have to leave now, but I will make arrangements with Crispin to bring him home as soon as we can,” Penelope said from the foot of the bed.

Anne turned. “I’ll let him know you came.” 

Their friend smiled. “I doubt it’s the first thing he’ll care about but thank you. I’ll be back in case they try to give you trouble.”

There were no words for Anne to say how much she appreciated Penelope, but the kiss Penelope placed on her temple before leaving suggested she understood.

Marjorie brought a basin of water and a cloth to clean the remaining soot from Phillip’s face and neck. The task took some time because Anne insisted on doing it herself but was afraid to apply too much pressure. After, she gently smoothed the aloe over his raw skin.

The practical work done, Anne wrapped her fingers around Phillip’s hand and brought it to her chest. Did he know she was there? Did he know he wasn’t alone? How bereft he must have felt these last weeks, broken from his family, distanced from his friend, and left by the woman he loved. Penelope was wrong. Phillip had not chosen her over his family. He chose who he wanted to be. Did he regret it?

“I love you,” she whispered against his skin before pressing her lips to his hand. A tear slipped down her cheek and then another. Maybe her confession came too late. Maybe what she’d done to him in leaving was irreparable. “How do I rewrite the stars,” she murmured, “say you were made to be mine?” Phillip slept on peacefully. Anne wove her fingers through his. “Nothing can keep us apart cause you are the one I was meant to find.”

Whatever the next day brought, whether disappointment or joy, Phillip was alive to see it, and for now, that was all that mattered. At some point during her vigil, Anne’s exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep across Phillip’s stomach.

Unfamiliar noises and murmuring were the first things Anne heard upon waking to a flood of light but those were not what prodded her from sleep. Something moved under her arm again, and Anne flew up horrified to find that sometime during the night she’d slumped across Phillip. She looked around sheepishly. 

Several other patients had arrived in the ward while she slept. Nurses wearing the same uniform as Marjorie’s moved through the room although the nurse from the night before was not among them. Noticing Anne was awake, one of the women came to her.

“How are you feeling this morning dear?”

“I’m fine,” Anne croaked. She cleared her throat. “How is he?”

The new nurse smiled. “He should be awake soon. You can see for yourself.”

Anne looked down at Phillip, her heart quickening. How would he react when he saw her there? What would she say?

She laced her fingers through his remembering all the times he’d taken her hand to let her and everyone know he stood by her. It steadied her while she waited. For now, the only thing she wanted to feel was the pulsing warmth of love radiating through her and the glow of the soft light around them.

At last, Phillip’s fingers moved against hers. They lifted and squeezed as if he were trying to determine what he held. He drew in a breath making Anne catch hers. When his eyes finally fluttered open, they went first to their linked hands. A puzzled look came over his face until he looked up at her and his grip tightened.

At a loss for words, Anne wrapped her hand around his and leaned her chin against them.

Phillip’s lips parted while he searched her face. “You’re here,” he told her at last. His head tilted with a question.  

She was. She was here. Anne did not intend to do what she did next nor did Phillip seem to expect it. He started to caress her cheek but instead she threw herself forward and kissed his mouth. His lips were chapped against hers but they were also tender and eager. He returned her kiss, answering with all the forgiveness that she sought.   

Anne drew back slightly, embarrassed and surprised at herself. Their noses brushed one another. His eyes searched hers for whether she meant it. In reply, Anne touched her forehead to his. Phillip’s uninjured hand, the one she’d fallen asleep on, moved from her shoulder to cradle her head and bring her back. Her heart thundered against his as he kissed her again like he’d never let her go. This one promised that everything would be okay.

When they came up for air, he stroked her hair. Her thumb rubbed circles around the corner of his mouth. “Were you hurt?” he murmured. She shook her head. “Good.” Phillip kissed her again. After resisting him for so long, Anne abandoned herself completely to his affections.

There was no time in all of their kisses to tell him that she loved him. But that could come later.


	20. It's fire, it's freedom, it's floodin' open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised one last chapter, but it was getting so long that it seemed best to do a Part I and Part II. Here is Part I of the finale. And for once, I'm nearly done with the chapter to follow so that should come soon!! Yay for no longer being able to blame my tardiness on the demands of work. S/o to Zendaya for reminding us that it's been a year since The Greatest Showman came out and reminding me that I've been as slow as molasses about finishing this story. 
> 
> You all have been so patient in this course of true love that never did run smooth that it seems about time that Anne and Phillip get to enjoy one another. What do you think? 
> 
> Thank you for always being the best, most lovely of readers. And without further ado, here we go.

Their bliss was short-lived. Another display like the one when Phillip first woke, and Anne would be forced to leave the hospital. Phillip grunted in pain trying push himself up to argue. Anne placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. “It won’t happen again,” she promised the nurse sent to reprimand them.

Phillip was white around the lips. “They have no right to do that,” he hissed. He gripped Anne’s arm to help in his attempt to sit up.  

Red-cheeked with embarrassment, the nurse pleaded with him to calm down before he exacerbated his injuries. Phillip still struggled against Anne while the nurse flitted around them wringing her hands more than doing anything to help. They were drawing the attention of others in the ward.

“Perhaps he needs more morphine,” the nurse muttered to herself. “It will calm him down.”

“I don’t need more morphine,” Phillip growled, “just an end to this stupidity. Where is your superior?”

Anne brought her other hand up to hold down both his shoulders. Leaning in so that only he could hear, she threatened to bruise a few more of his ribs if he kept fighting her. Mouth a thin line, he acquiesced and lay still. However, that did not stop him from glaring at the nurse.

“Could you give us a moment ma’am?” Anne asked quietly. Speechless, the woman nodded, all too grateful to escape. Several of the patients gave the nurse sympathetic grimaces when she hurried past. Anne tried to push aside the feeling of being punched in the gut. The care Phillip received here was far superior to what was provided in the colored wing, but at least there, people would have directed their empathy toward her and not the woman chastising them.

To her surprise, Phillip was grinning up at her when she turned back to him. Even his now very black eye, assorted bruises, and the shadow of his beard could not dim the glow that filled his face. He reminded her of a beaming cherub cradled blissfully in a cloud painted ceiling. “Well that was a fast turnabout,” she said dryly, letting her arms go limp. “I can’t tell if you’ve come to or lost your senses.”

“What if I told you I’m still not sure whether I’m alive or in heaven?”

Anne stared at him bemusedly. “I’d say you’re being trite. But I’d like to believe heaven allows a few kisses.” 

Making him laugh, she realized belatedly, was a poor idea. Anne apologized frantically while his teeth ground in pain. His breath hissed in and out in agonized bursts, and his fist clutched the covers so tightly that his knuckles showed white even through their bruises. She watched his suffering helplessly.

It wasn’t fair that he was paying for her mistakes. It wasn’t fair that it was her and not his family here by his side. It wasn’t fair that their love came at such a steep price.  

The tension in his face slowly eased, but his brow remained creased with worry. “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked breathlessly.

“Like what?”

He squinted at her as if trying to see past her carefully neutral expression. She resisted the urge to look away. A part of her was afraid of what he might see but her curiosity was greater.

His voice wavered when he finally said, “As if you have regrets.” When she did not deny him, Phillip’s face fell. She smoothed his hair. It was filthy and chalky but still pliant to her touch. He was badly hurt in body and possibly in spirit. Now was not the time to discuss what weighed on her.

Lightly, she said, “You’re lying in a hospital bed with broken ribs, stitches, and burns. You don’t have any regrets about that?”

“No,” he said stoutly. “If you’d told me I had to run into a burning building for you to be by my side, I would have done it a year ago.” They both knew that was not what stood between them, but he was trying to make her smile. She forced herself to reward his effort. He reached up with his good hand and stroked her cheek. Anne leaned into his caress. “Promise me we can talk about this,” he begged.

“We will,” she told him, lowering his wrist before someone came back to demand she leave. Not wanting to cause him any doubt though, she left her hands wrapped around his arm. “Maybe we can find a way to rewrite our stars.”

The look Phillip gave her then made her feel like she was in the rush of free fall. Time and space unfurled around her as if both had ceased to exist. Every one of her senses gave way to something far larger than her self so that it seemed as if she were part of everything around her. Into this feeling crept the memory of their entwined limbs and his warmth enveloping her as his weight sent them soaring through the air together. The urge to blurt out then and there that she loved him almost overwhelmed her, but he deserved to hear it without the burden of disapproving onlookers. A promise of maybe was enough for him, enough for now. So Anne held it in but succumbed to her desire to touch his hair again.

Breakfast for Phillip arrived then, providing a welcome distraction. With assistance and Anne’s encouraging words, he was able to sit up in his bed. Changing position left him pale and damp with sweat, but he insisted that he felt better upright. “Will you bring her a portion as well?” Phillip asked the man who brought his food.

The kitchen helper shook his head. He kept his eyes lowered. “Patients only sir.”

“But she’s been here all night,” Phillip protested. “Surely, you can make an exception?”

“I can’t, but is there anything else I may do for you sir?”

To Anne’s relief Phillip did not push further. The man hurried away as soon as it was clear Phillip would not demand anything else of him. There was hardly enough porridge for one. She tried not to look at the serving too hungrily as she helped situate the tray across Phillip’s lap. It had been quite some time since her last meal.

“You have it,” he told her when they were alone again.

“I’m not hungry,” she lied.

“Then neither am I.”

“You need to regain your strength.”

“I will only eat if you share it.” Anne could see he was going to refuse to back down so she gave in and agreed to finish what remained. Phillip was careful to leave more than half and insisted on her finishing it. “They’ll bring me more if I ask later.” 

The meal, small as it was, helped restore some of his color. Although Anne tried to delay, he wanted to know the events of the night before. He remembered the fight, the spread of the fire, and his attempt to rescue her but nothing after that. She told him what she’d learned from Barnum and Penelope. To her surprise, he was more concerned by Barnum’s return than the news that all was lost. “Do you know why he came back?” he asked.

She shook her head. “But he saved your life. He went in after you and carried you out. I—we all thought…” She trailed off, gnawing her lip to hold in the tears at the memory of believing Phillip lost.

“I’m here, and I’m going to be fine,” he told her gently. “And you’re here.” He didn’t let them dwell on what they almost lost, but he seemed preoccupied. Something about Barnum’s return was bothering him. However, it was clear he did not want to talk about it just then so Anne focused on keeping him entertained.  

Phillip drifted in and out of wakefulness throughout the day. Twice while he slept, a doctor came to check on him. Each time he examined Phillip and left without a word to Anne. She searched the doctor’s face for any sign of concern, but he seemed satisfied with his patient’s progress. Anne might have slipped away during one of Phillip’s naps but for the expression of relief and then awe that returned to his face when he woke to find her still at his side.

With her defenses down, Anne found Phillip’s affection intoxicating. Every touch, glance, and smile consumed her and even before it went away left her desperate for the next. It was a luxury to let herself finally feel any of these things unchecked. The hours he slept passed quickly while she savored these gestures, few though they were. 

The light filtering through the curtains brightened and then softened as the afternoon drew on. Anne dragged the chair from the foot of the bed to his bedside so she would not disturb the mattress every time she shifted. Muffled noise from the street below ebbed and flowed. Over the sound of clopping hooves, squeaking carriages, and indistinct chatter of passerby, a burst of children’s laughter or shouts occasionally rang out. Sometimes Phillip stirred at the sounds but otherwise she did her best to be sure his rest was uninterrupted. At last, as the natural light in the ward dimmed, he woke fully.  

“You didn’t have to stay,” he croaked after he’d assured himself that she was still there. Stiffly, Anne pushed herself out of her chair to pour him a cup of water.

“I wanted to,” she said simply. The way his face lit up was enough to erase all the discomfort she'd endured. 

Penelope returned shortly after. Anne and Phillip assured her there was no need to apologize that it was later than she intended. “You look better than you did last night,” Penelope told him. “How do you feel?”

Phillip glanced at Anne. “Probably not as bad as I should.” He had the decency to blush, but she didn’t mind.

“Well that’s something,” Penelope replied. Her gaze swept between the two of them but, to Anne’s relief, did not linger. 

When the doctor came back, the one who checked on Phillip while he slept, he finally introduced himself as Dr. Felder before sending Anne and Penelope away so that he could examine Phillip more closely. The doctor was gone when they were summoned back, but Phillip grinned at them brightly. “I’m well enough to go home! Dr. Felder said there’s nothing more they can do for me here.”

“Can you walk?” Anne asked worriedly. She wasn’t sure she could bear all of his weight on her own, and Penelope wasn’t strong enough to provide much support.

Phillip looked determined. “I’ll manage. I don’t want to be here another moment.” Adamant as he was about leaving, Penelope persuaded him to wait for her to fetch his valet Crispin and clothes. He could see the sense in reasoning and agreed reluctantly. While she was gone, Anne tried to convince him to spend another night.

“What for? So I can watch them continue to mistreat you?”

“I’ll leave. Penelope can stay with you.”

“I don’t want Penny. I want you.”

“It’s only for a few more hours, Phillip. I promise to come as soon as you’re home.”

“I’m still leaving.”

They went back and forth in low voices until Phillip threw up his hands. “Anne Wheeler can’t you tell how desperately I want to kiss you again? And if I can't do it here, I'm not staying a second longer than I have to!”

What was Anne to say to that? Her face went hot. Even her ears felt like they were burning. “Excuse me for being more concerned for your health,” she muttered at last.

Phillip glanced around before brushing a quick kiss across her fingers. “I swear to follow every one of the doctor’s instructions,” he promised. Chaste as the kiss was, Anne felt a thrill of excitement. The heat morphed from embarrassment to something far more welcome as it swept from her face to the pit of her stomach. 

Anne pulled her hand away. His touch was affecting her thinking. Phillip had spotted his advantage and was pursuing it relentlessly. “Just because you’re injured,” she protested.

“I’ll take it,” he said with a mischievous grin that told her he was well aware that he was taking full advantage of his injury. 

As much as Anne enjoyed his flirting, they still had much to discuss. There was also the future of the circus, which was no light matter. Steering him back to their responsibilities, she replied, “I’m sure Barnum is going to need your help soon enough.”  

It was the right thing to say to sober him. He leaned back into the pillows as if the thought already weighed on him. “I have a bad feeling, Anne. He’s supposed to be on tour. Why was he there last night?”

“Maybe he missed his family and came for a visit.”

Phillip started to rub his jaw, remembered its soreness, and settled for rubbing his neck instead. “Perhaps. But Cincinnati is a long way away. As far as I know, unless he hired someone else, he was the one managing the tour so he shouldn’t have left at all.”

“What do you think?” she prompted.

“I don’t know yet,” he sighed. “I’ll have to talk to him. Where is Penny? This bed is lumpy. My tailbone hurts.”

She refused to be distracted this time. “What do you think is wrong, Phillip?”

He shifted and winced. “It’s only a guess. I don’t want to make you worry unnecessarily. And even if it is what I think…”

“Phillip.”

He glanced at her and looked away, a frown drawing down his lips. “Between you and me, I think the tour may have been delayed. And if it was, with the fire and no circus for revenue, we won’t be able to make our loan payments.”

She had a sinking feeling of what that might mean, but the thought of losing her newfound family formed a knot so tight in her throat that she couldn’t speak around it. They could rebuild after a fire but not without money. If Phillip was right, they might have lost more the night before than any of them realized.

Phillip reached out and caressed her arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, dove, I’m probably seeing a spook where there isn’t one. The last few weeks haven’t been the easiest, and I’m on edge. Let’s just…I just want to go home.”

“You’ll be there before you know it,” she finally agreed.

It took both Anne and Crispin to help Phillip out of the carriage at his house and up the stairs to his bedroom. He was white and shaking by the time Crispin helped him into bed. Anne sat beside him, supporting a pillow against his chest with one hand while he coughed and stroking the back of his hair with the other.

“Maybe more morphine,” Penelope offered. The doctor provided her a small supply before they left the hospital.

“Only if I’m in terrible pain,” he said between coughs. Anne looked worriedly at Penelope who shrugged.

“Perhaps it will help,” Anne urged.

“It’s getting better,” Phillip wheezed. When his coughing did subside, Anne fluffed his pillows and helped him lean back into them. There were so many. Did he normally sleep with all of them or were they brought in for his comfort?

“I’ll go check on the meal,” Penelope excused herself. She bustled out leaving Anne and Phillip truly alone for the first time since the fire. Anne grew self-conscious. The two of them had spent many hours together in his house, but of course none of those in his bedroom. Even with the given circumstances, it seemed inappropriate to be in a place so personal to Phillip.

His bedroom was larger than the rented room she shared with Lettie, Octavia, and Cecelia. It was a beautiful shade of sage that blended smoothly with the mahogany furniture. A lavish rug with intricate floral patterns woven through its cobalt interior and cream border covered most of the floor. It was spongy beneath her feet. The color of some of the leaves in the rug matched perfectly with the sage color of the walls. Across the room, positioned in the warmth of the sun that would have spilled through the tall windows but for their shutter blinds, was a small sitting area with a well-worn arm chair and a chaise lounge with a back carved in the likeness of a swan. The side table by the arm chair was scattered with books and writing materials. Everything glowed warmly in the dim cast of the gas lamps lit against the fading light of the day. 

She could hardly bring herself to take in the bed where he lay. Covered in a luxurious green silk bedspread, its four posts were intricately carved columns that supported a wood framed canopy lined with cream damask.   

It was a breathtaking room.

“How hungry are you?” Phillip asked, breaking their prolonged silence.

Anne laughed, hoping he didn’t detect her nervousness. “I could eat your bed covers,” she confessed. “But I need to let WD know where I am and that all’s well.”    

“I’ll have someone send word. Stay, a little while longer. At least eat with me.” He pulled her toward him. “Please?” His fingers played with the loose tendrils of her hair and skimmed lightly over her jaw. They were rough against her skin. Her heart beat frantically and vaguely she wondered when his ridiculous lashes had become so entrancing and the blue of his eyes open to the breadth of the sky. Anne was in free fall again even before his fingers gently gripped her chin and pulled her in.

This time when their lips met, neither held back. Phillip held onto her desperately, weaving his fingers through her hair to pull her deeper and deeper into the kiss. Anne surrendered all control of her senses, letting herself be overwhelmed in turns by the caress of his lips, the tug of her hair, and the firmness of his chest against the softness of hers. Her skin tingled in every minute place that they touched. The tingling swept through her, shooting from point to point until it coalesced into a single burning ache that yearned for his touch to quell it.

Phillip cupped her face and pulled away with a soft groan. “My ribs,” he gasped breathlessly. “Ow. I forgot.” Anne tried to draw back, but he shook his head. “I just need to catch my breath.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Gently, she steadied herself against his chest to keep her balance. His heart beat was as erratic as his breathing.

“Not your fault.” He smoothed his thumb fondly over her cheek.

“If you hadn’t run into the fire thinking I was in there…”

“Well, if I hadn’t, you probably wouldn’t be draped across me tempting every ounce of my restraint right now, so please salve whatever guilt you’re harboring with the knowledge that I’m very much enjoying this outcome. Even with my broken ribs.”

“That’s absurd,” she scoffed.

To her surprise, Phillip’s reply was solemn. “I know, Anne.” She straightened out of his grasp. He didn’t try to resist. This mood shift was so sudden she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Phillip watched her with uncertainty. Anxious as she was under his scrutiny, she forced herself to stay still and quiet. She had played such a game of cat and mouse with his heart that it was no wonder he would hesitate at this latest development.      

“You’ve known all along how much I want you, but you kept telling me your hands were tied,” he said at last.

Anne swallowed. “I know.” Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. She knew this moment would arrive, but she thought she might have more time to figure out how to explain herself.

His face creased with frustration when she didn’t go on. “So has nothing changed? What are you doing now, Anne? I’ve wanted this part of you for so long, and a weak part of me wants to just enjoy this while it lasts regardless of what’s to come. But the rest of me can’t--,” he floundered for words but the pain in his expression made clear what he was trying to tell her. “It can’t take this. I let you go already. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Nothing he said was unwarranted. It wasn’t her place to be upset even though she felt like crying. “You now know what it means—everything it costs—to love me. I never wanted to take any of that from you.”

It took Phillip some time to work through the meaning of her words. When he did, he said, “I’m not sure how you found out, and I’ll save any accusations for later, but I want you to know that it was nothing to do with you Anne. I parted from the path I was supposed to be on the day I accepted Barnum’s lowball offer to be his junior partner.” Phillip shifted into a more comfortable position. “As for the cost of loving you, as you put it, love itself is not a transaction. It’s something we experience and feel regardless of the circumstances that surround it. What _you’ve_ taught me though is that loving you and being with you are entirely different things—don’t look so surprised. You know you were right.”

“What’s happened with my family is done. It’s true that without you in my life things could be different with them. But that would also mean giving up who I’ve become, and that’s not what I want. It’s my own fault that when you saw being with me, you also saw my status, my reputation, and my wealth. I didn’t truly value those things, but I clung to them. I’m desperately sorry that I was so blind and ignorant. And that being so made it look like I had everything to lose and nothing to gain.”

“You and PT were the first people in my life who demanded that I live on my own terms. Of course, where he was concerned there was some self-interest. Fine, a lot really. You were the only one who wanted to know who I was beyond everything I’d been given in life.”         

She smoothed out a wrinkle in his bedspread. Phillip had always thought far more highly of her than she deserved. “Thank you, Phillip, but I’m the one who should be doing the explaining.”  

He shook his head. “If you want to. I only want to know if your hands are still tied.”

Anne took in his battered body, from his eye nearly swollen shut to the bandages extending beyond the cuff of his nightshirt. So much had changed since she was the one staring at him through a shiner of her own. At the time, he was the son of one of New York’s wealthiest families dabbling in an adventure. No one knew about her past and the pain and ugliness it held. The only overlap in their very different lives was the circus, and it seemed too tenuous a bond to withstand all they would face outside of it.

The circus was gone now. There were no longer any walls to protect them. What had seemed impossible to stand on its own was all they had left. Phillip had long since cast aside adventure for responsibility, winding his way from outsider to the heart of what the circus had become. Despite her efforts to force him to put his family first, or at least ahead of her, he gave her nothing but support and understanding when she chose to refuse a man’s dying wish for her forgiveness. Where once she’d believed his interest cursory and prurient, she knew that answering ‘no’ to his question now meant he would want to spend the rest of his life with her.

“It will be hard,” she warned.

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Anne, being with you is hard. You can be self-righteous and stubborn. Most of the time you share maybe a fifth of what goes on in your head and even less when you feel vulnerable. I’m not sure you trust anyone except your brother. Your whole life you’ve seen the world in a way that I am only beginning to and then only from a distance. What I want for us, it’s nearly impossible.”

Well, perhaps he wasn’t so blind to her faults, she thought ruefully. “What we want,” she corrected. “What we want is nearly impossible.” Phillip straightened, looking at her with hope he hardly dared let show. Unsure how he would respond to her next words, Anne took in a slow breath. “I never thought you’d come this far,” she admitted.   

His eyes held hers. “Just tell me, is it far enough?”

She let out the breath. Whatever distance she tried to put between them, Phillip would do everything to close it. He’d seen for himself what it was like to be part of her world. He’d nearly lost his life. Yet, he was still here, begging her with everything he had to stay. Nothing more she could say or do would persuade him away. “Yes,” she said at last. And, because he hesitated in reaching for her despite the joy bursting across his face, she added, “I don’t care anymore if it’s impossible. I can’t—and I don’t want to—stop loving you.”

Phillip’s good hand cradled her cheek. “You love me Anne?”

“Of course.” Feeling so light she was scared of floating off the bed, she gripped his arm and leaned into him. She took in his smile as it spread to his cheeks, the corners of his eyes, and lifted his ears. Anne waited until it was too wide to conceal that lopsided tug that she loved so dearly, and then she scooted forward to let Phillip pull her back into a kiss that swept every last caution from her mind. His fingers glided from her cheek to her neck while other hand skimmed her spine to find a spot at her lower back that stoked her desire like bellows to a flame. She was aware of nothing else but the kiss as if it had become the sole source of her consciousness.

Phillip paused with a chuckle, tipping his forehead against hers. “Can you say it again. Please?”

“Of course,” Anne said breathlessly, without thinking, until her thoughts caught up with the weightless feeling inside her, and she realized that his cheeks were wet. She brought her fingers up to touch his tears. “I love you, Phillip. Of course I love you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “I can’t stop loving you,” she told him. He kissed the other corner. “I don’t want to stop loving you.” His lips skimmed down to kiss her jaw, and the sensation sent a jolt through her. She would say anything for him to keep going. “I don’t want to stop loving you,” she gasped as the friction of his stubble against her neck ignited a feeling in her that she wanted to explore more but didn’t dare have anyone walk in on.

Phillip seemed to have the same thought for he stopped with a chaste kiss on her cheek. His breath was warm and light on her skin when he whispered into her ear. “Even waiting forever for you would have been worth it, Anne.” There was no one to overhear, but a secret so dear to the heart is best kept close to the ones who share it.

Embarrassed, breathless, and silly with her feeling of lightness, Anne straightened and fluffed his pillows because it gave her something to do. Then she got up to throw another log onto the fire in his fireplace. She felt more grounded by the time she turned back to him. Phillip was watching her wearing his full, crooked grin.  

Anne smiled back shyly. Something thrilling was shifting and changing between them at a lightning fast pace that made her head spin. She wanted what would come with it, she knew for sure now. But the familiarity of his gaze, a combination of bemused and awestruck, and easy quiet reminded her to enjoy the here and now. These would be the moments that sustained them when the world struck a blow at their love.

“Will you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asked.

She exhaled and inhaled so quickly it sounded like a laugh. “I hardly know myself. I feel like I’m flying, and I’ll have to come down soon. But not for now. This is where I want to be.”

His smile did not change but fervor sharpened each of his features and roughened his voice when he told her, “Me too. It’s everything I’ll ever want.”

And knowing all that led to this moment, Anne believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeeee!!!! Omg, yes, Anne and Phillip have finally, really kissed. 
> 
> Also I'm curious...as we draw to a close...which characters--if any--in this story have been the most interesting to you and why? And what remaining questions do you have going into the final stretch?


	21. It's fire, it's freedom, it's floodin' open part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hardly believe it! Nearly a year later, here we are at the end. Or the beginning, however you choose to see it. Thank you, thank you for all of your support and encouragement along the way. I couldn't have crossed this finish line without you. I love you all!!

Anne was reluctant to leave Phillip’s side, but she had a brother and friends who needed her. WD said nothing about Phillip when she met him in the parlor of his boarding house. He merely swept her up in an embrace that told her he would always love her. Anne brought her arms up to circle his shoulders. “I was so scared,” she whispered. And finally, in his arms, she cried for all they lost—her hoop, their costumes, their home.

Nearly her entire life, they’d been drifters, attaching themselves to whatever circus was willing to hire them and moving on when the money or tolerance ran out. It was a strange, new feeling to have anything to lose. Delicately Anne explored the shape of this unfamiliar hurt.

“What now?” WD asked, still holding her as her tears waned.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder. Once, the answer was simple. They were runaways in search of their place in the world. Together, they rode the winds of opportunity and freedom. Phillip was changing all that, but she was not entirely sure how and thus not ready to talk about it. Instead, she replied, “What do you want?”

WD was quiet for so long, Anne was not sure he’d heard her. When he finally answered, it was something she’d never seen coming. “I want to see if I can find my father.”  

Anne stiffened. He shifted his hold to her shoulders and leaned back so she could see his face. Unlike Phillip’s, his showed no sign of a recent fight, although he’d thrown the first punch. Only the knuckles of his right hand, raw and bruised, showed any evidence of his tussle. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. It’s just…I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately, and I can’t shake it. Marianna told me what she knew of his last whereabouts. It’s possible he could be out there.”

After what happened when the other Wheelers came looking for her, Anne thought WD wanted nothing to do with them. When had he gone to his former mistress for help, and why had he not mentioned it until now?

“I’m not going anywhere, Anne, not for good,” he reassured her gently. “It will take at least a few weeks to rebuild the circus, and I’ve saved enough for a trip to Philadelphia and possibly Washington to see what I can find. Then I’ll be back.”

Anne stared at him. A vaguely familiar sour taste that she couldn’t quite place filled her mouth. WD could be impulsive, but not about something like this. And he had enough savings to travel. Aside from how little they were able to put away from their wages, WD could spend money like there were holes in every pocket he owned. He’d been thinking about this search for his father for some time then without even hinting at it to her.   

She knew he was watching for her reaction. As she stumbled through the thoughts tumbling through her head, she realized she couldn’t remember a time he’d so much as mentioned his father to her outright. Even when he learned that she knew about her parentage and his. “That time I asked you whether or not you were my brother, you called me stupid and told me that people were only siblings if they had the same mother. Did you really believe that then or were you trying to make me feel better?”

“Probably a little of both,” he admitted sheepishly at being reminded of his fumbling attempt at authority as a child. 

“Were you ever afraid of your father finding out about me?” she probed, trying to determine why, after all these years, he suddenly felt such an overwhelming desire to find his father.

WD’s eyebrows flew up in shock, but he went along. “As a kid, yes. Mostly because I hardly understood myself what was going on. I just knew I wasn’t supposed to talk about it. As I got older, though, I realized that these things happened often enough he would have at least considered the idea. Maybe he even expected it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about talking to Marianna?”

He shrugged, growing impatient with her barrage of questions. “I dunno, Anne. It seemed like you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Because I thought you didn’t want to talk about it! You told me there was nothing to talk about after they left.” Anne took a breath to calm herself. She didn’t want to start a fight with him. “I thought it was because the memories were too painful for you.” WD folded his arms across his chest and looked away. What did it matter that he hadn’t told her before? He was telling her now. She didn’t like that he’d kept something so important to himself for so long, but maybe he didn’t feel right talking to her about it.

She was about to apologize when WD said abruptly, “When you were a baby, I was the one who could get you to stop crying. Sometimes even when Mama couldn’t. The night Mama left us, you didn’t cry but once. She was crying and kissing us and telling us how much she loved us over and over, and you didn’t make a sound. But then, when it really hit me she was leaving, I started to cry and that’s when you did.”

“She came back and hugged me. ‘Be brave for your sister,’ she said. ‘As long as she got you, she know she safe.’ She wiped my tears with her skirt and left for good. I didn’t cry again, and neither did you. I was so proud. I did think of finding my father before. That time when we couldn’t find work, and you wanted to go to school so bad. I thought maybe he could help us. But no matter how bad it got, you kept telling me everything was alright as long as you had me. It made me feel the way I did the night Mama left, and I didn’t want it to go away.”

Stunned by this confession, Anne pressed a hand to her forehead as if to help slow everything she had to reconsider. “I thought you were ashamed of me,” she told him.

WD gaped at her. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Anne!” he practically shouted. “What gave you that notion?”

Anne nearly jumped at his language and quickly looked toward the archway of the parlor to see if anyone had overheard. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be out at this hour in the afternoon. WD, unused to being worked up, began to pace in erratic spurts, starting and stopping to gape at her.   

 “You just said you were afraid of him finding out about me,” she defended herself.

“When we were children! Have you been thinking that all this time?”

“No! I mean, not often. Not meaningfully.”

WD’s hands came to rest on his hips. They considered one another across the room. Watching the muscles in his forearms ripple with his restless energy, Anne remembered the source of the sour taste. There were few times in her life that she’d let her brother down.

Before Anne was old enough to understand stealing, she spent nearly a year watching WD take every odd job he could to earn extra money. Tall for his age and strong, it was not hard for him to get hired but sometimes hard to get paid fairly, if at all. Frustrated as he was when someone didn’t keep their end of the bargain, he was relentless and that Christmas he surprised her with a doll like the ones she admired in the arms of the little girls who came to the circus. Anne loved her and named her Green for the color of the doll’s dress and, therefore, her new favorite color.

Green went everywhere with her, but WD instructed her to keep the doll hidden in a safe place when she was busy. Unfortunately, she showed that safe place to one of the girls she sometimes played with and one day, she returned from training to find Green missing. In tears, she went to Tirza for help finding the doll. They looked everywhere, but she was gone. That night, WD noticed Anne’s barely touched supper and the doll missing from the usual place at her side. He couldn’t keep his face from falling when she told him the truth, but he hugged her and told her it would all be okay, and her mouth flooded with that sour, burning taste.

As Anne took in her brother’s defensive stance and the hard set of his mouth, she realized she’d let WD down. When their past reared painfully in their faces, she’d turned away from him for comfort. Like a child, she’d mistaken his stoicism for impenetrability. Her whole life, he’d been her rock, so solid and unwavering she had not seen how much he depended on her. He was always insisting he was there for her, but maybe he needed to hear she was there for him.

“Mama was right. As long as I’ve got you, I know I’m safe,” Anne told him. “Nothing, not even Phillip, changes that, WD. You were the one I was looking for the night of the fire. I was terrified you were trapped or hurt or…I didn’t want to leave without you.” He lowered his arms. “Me needing you, that will never go away no matter who comes along.”

“Annie…”

Choking up, she went on, “I understand why you want to find your father. It’s okay. I promise I’ll always be here. And I was stupid, for thinking you were ashamed of me.”

That last confession surprised a snort from him. And then he was laughing at her outright to her chagrin. “Your thoughts always was worth more than a penny, Anne.”

It was her turn for her hands to go to her hips. She wasn’t truly angry though. She knew these types of talks made WD uncomfortable. “Well, if you’d’ve told me sooner, I wouldn’t have given all that money to the asylum,” she retorted. It was about time she told him what became of the money Gideon Wheeler gave her anyway.

His laughter slowed. “What money and what asylum?”

“The money that Marianna brought with her. I gave it to the Colored Orphan Asylum. It’s uptown. It’s for colored children without parents.”

WD grew serious. He came over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did that. Mama would be proud.”

“You think?” Anne asked hopefully.

“Well, from what I remember, she could be petty as get-out. She threw pig slop on a woman’s clean laundry for saying a mean word against her sister and took in all of Mrs. Wheeler’s dresses so they didn’t fit her anymore. Had everyone but the seamstress in stitches over that one. She probably would’ve been just fine if you threw the money in the fire. But she was also practical so she would’ve wanted the money to do something good.” Anne appreciated the rare glimpse of her mother, especially one so honest. “You did good, Annie.”

She told her brother about her visit to the asylum and agreed that they could go again together. Their talk turned to his plans for the search for his father. It turned out he’d been looking for some time but had little luck with the aid societies in New York. Runaways and later free men were scattered across the country, territories, and frontier with only the faintest idea of where to begin looking for the loved ones left behind or escaped before them.    

“There’s a teacher I had—do you remember Miss Swann?” Anne ventured. WD nodded. “I wrote to her some time ago and never heard from her. I have an address for her in Philadelphia. Maybe you could see if you find anything while you’re there?” He promised to take a look.  

Anne’s visit with WD left her much to think about so she was grateful to find only Cecelia home when she returned. Her friend refrained from asking anything while she helped her draw a bath. However, as soon as Anne was soaking in the hot water, the questions poured forth. They talked while Cecelia worked a heavenly smelling combination of honey and rosewater through her hair.

Was she really with Phillip from the time of the fire? Yes. What happened to him? He was lucky to survive. Anne told her friend everything she knew of his family, his intentions, her own change of heart. The only thing left out were Phillip’s suspicions about Barnum. Those she kept to herself for now. They would know the truth soon enough and there was no use spreading rumors.

Anne also told Cecelia about WD’s plans to look for his father. She confided her worries that he felt she was leaving him behind for Phillip. Cecelia had a different approach. “It’s about time he let you get on with your life, and he got on with his,” she exclaimed. “At least he’s come around to Carlyle.”

“How do you know that?” Anne demanded, wincing as her friend scrubbed her scalp a little too hard.

Cecelia sounded amused. “The whole fight started because WD slugged a man who got in Carlyle’s face. That’s how men declare friendship. Or at least acceptance.”

Anne laughed at her friend’s estimation of the other sex but agreed with her assessment, at least in WD’s case. WD would wade into any fight to end it, but he only started one when he felt protective. 

They talked while she dressed and then still more wrapped together under a quilt with cups of hot cocoa that Crispin sent home with her. Lettie and Octavia returned with their groceries, and Anne was made to start from the beginning again, at least as far as Phillip was concerned. They would have to confront the disaster of the fire soon, but for now, knowing they were all alive and well was enough. 

The next morning, Anne went with her roommates to the remains of their circus for the first time. It was still standing, albeit without a roof, when she’d last seen it, but now there was little left except a heap of blackened rubble and timber and the curved beam and columns that had once supported the entryway. Smoke still rose from the ruins. Despite the increasing bustle on the streets around them, a hush like those that clung to cemeteries hung over the site. Anne thought she might feel anger for what those men had taken from them. There would be no justice for their crime.

Instead, with the sky open above the place where she’d so often taken flight, where so many misfits and castoffs found a home and love, the grip of determination closed over her heart and with each pulse buried itself deeper within her. It drilled its way into each of her bones and wove through every muscle. They had to find a way to come back. If there would be no justice, they could still triumph.

“The rest of it came down yesterday morning,” WD told her. He’d arrived with Alec and Constantine. “It was too hot for us to start any kind of search.”

“Search for what? What could be left in there?” she asked skeptically.

“We’ll see. Let’s get breakfast first though.”

“I have to go, but I’ll join you later,” she promised.

WD’s eyes narrowed. “Where you headed?” Anne blushed and stammered until WD broke out in a grin that told her he’d known all along. She gave him a shove that he laughed off. “Can’t promise I’ll save you any food.”

“I wouldn’t expect it,” she retorted. She waved to him and her friends before heading up the block. It would be faster to take a streetcar, but the morning air was unusually fresh and the crispness helped curb the edge of sadness that lingered from seeing what had become of the place so special to her.

The sun was well into the sky and warm when the closely packed, gritty buildings suddenly gave way to stately brownstones with elaborate wrought iron fences and tree lined streets. Anne let herself through the gate of Phillip’s and practically ran up the steps. Crispin answered her eager ring. “Good morning,” she said brightly when he opened the door.

However, he did not return her greeting with his usual slow smile. Instead, he glanced furtively over his shoulder. “Mr. Carlyle told me to let you in if you came, but you should know Mrs. Carlyle is here.”

Anne stepped into the foyer. “Is there a place I can wait?” She had no desire to cross paths with his mother again if she could help it.

Crispin was about to tell her when a woman called out, “Who is that at the door? Crispin, who’s come this early?”

“Mother, never mind who’s come,” Phillip admonished.

“Crispin?” the woman said shrilly. Her voice seemed closer.

Anne shrank back into the doorway of the reception room and cast Phillip’s valet a pleading look. He grimaced apologetically. “The kitchen,” he mouthed to her. She turned to run for it but another voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Anne?”

Her heart sank at the accusation in the girl’s familiar voice. Slowly, she turned back. Lilian, noticeably taller than the last time they’d seen one another, glared at her balefully. “Why are you here?” she spat.

“Miss Carlyle,” Crispin said cautiously. But Lilian brushed him aside, her cheeks flushed with anger and her eyes, normally so like her brother’s, cold.

“How dare you come here!” the girl screamed. “Get out!”

Mrs. Carlyle and Josephine appeared in the doorway behind Lilian. Anne stood rooted to the spot, held at the mercy of their anger. Only Josephine’s gaze held any sympathy. “The audacity,” Phillip’s mother gasped, placing her hand to her chest.

Anne blinked. The audacity? This from a woman who took over a day to visit her injured son. This from a woman who turned on her child for no better reason than she did not like the color of the woman he loved. The audacity indeed. “He had no one to go to the hospital with him,” Anne returned.

“If it weren’t for you, he would not have been anywhere near that fire in the first place!”

“I never made Phillip join the circus!”

Mrs. Carlyle sneered. “Don’t think me an idiot, you…you Jezebel!”

Anne recoiled at the verbal blow. Crispin scowled but dared not say a word against the mother of his employer. Wide-eyed amazement replaced Lilian’s anger, and Josephine exclaimed in horror, “Mama!” Phillip’s mother ignored all of them and advanced on Anne as Crispin stood by helplessly. “You think I don’t see what you’ve done to him with your perverse desires?”

Anne’s face burned, not for anything she’d done but what Mrs. Carlyle suggested, that her son had helplessly fallen victim to Anne’s sexual appetite, replacing love with lust and hedonistic pleasure. Far uglier words made their way to Mrs. Carlyle’s lips in her blazing fury.

Wanting to scream to drown out the woman’s attack on her love, her mother, her race, Anne struggled to hold herself together and to find the words to defend herself. When Mrs. Carlyle paused for breath, she seized her chance. “You know nothing about me,” Anne began, her voice shaking with anger that fought the tight control she kept on it. Everything in her wanted to give into the fire the accusations and insults set ablaze in her, but that would not do to drive home her point.

Fists clenched so tightly that her fingernails bit into her palms, Anne went on. “And after what you’ve said, I owe you nothing. But you are the mother of the man who loves me, so I will draw upon what little remaining respect I have for your position to say this. I’ve only tried to convince Phillip that nothing was more important than his family. If he chose otherwise, that is not my fault. Nor is it my fault that you forced his hand so any pain you are suffering right now is of your own doing. Not mine.” Mrs. Carlyle’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. “I have lived my whole life regretting the loss of a mother who gave me up so I could be free and longing for her to hold me, comfort me, and guide me with a loving hand. I would never deny that to someone I love.”

Mrs. Carlyle drew herself up to every inch her height provided her. “Well I am here now. You may go,” she said imperiously.

“I don’t want her to.” Phillip leaned heavily against the door frame, one arm wrapped protectively around his front. Beneath all of its bruising, his face was stark white. “It’s time for you to go, Mother.”   

The twins looked between their mother and brother. Lilian remained by Mrs. Carlyle’s side, but Josephine went to Phillip.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed yet,” Anne protested despite the standoff she was in. He gave her a reassuring smile but before he could reply, the Carlyle matriarch rounded on him.        

“What do you mean she may stay but I must go?” Mrs. Carlyle demanded sharply. Every part of her quivered with indignation right down to the pearl broach on her dress. “Am I not your mother?”

“For the first time in my life, I’m ashamed to say yes,” Phillip said his voice rising and breaking. “I told you that I wanted no part of your or father’s hatred and condescension. You’ve brought that into my house and directed it at Anne, the woman I love, whom I had to spend months convincing of the truth and strength of that regard because of the way my own parents looked at her. I don’t want any part of it. Please go. Crispin, fetch their coats.”     

Lilian turned hateful eyes on Anne as the valet retreated from the room. “Look what you’ve done. Because of you Flip doesn’t want us anymore!”

Although she felt little sympathy for his mother, Anne’s heart went out to Lilian, caught in the middle of a battle she had no say in. For the first time, she saw a pang of regret pass over Phillip’s face. “Is that what Mother and Father told you, Lily? That I no longer want you? Because there’s nothing further from the truth.”

“How come you don’t love us as much as her though?” Josephine asked. A smirk of triumph touched their mother’s mouth.

Phillip lifted his arm to put it around his little sister’s shoulders and drew her into a hug. “It’s not that I love Anne more than you or Lily, teacup. When people find out about Anne and me, they will say mean things to you. They will call you horrible names and taunt you and perhaps even stop being your friend. Mother and Father are doing what they believe will protect you and keep you safe.”

“I don’t care what people say,” Josephine said stoutly. “I’ll tell them they’re wrong. Anne is perfectly wonderful, and they’re wrong to say anything mean or bad about her.”

Mrs. Carlyle’s eyebrows arched sharply. Anne was touched by Josephine’s willingness to stand up for her but worried about what her words might have revealed about their prior acquaintance. From Phillip’s frown, he was having the same thought. “And how would you know she’s ‘perfectly wonderful’?” Their mother’s voice was dangerously calm.

“Because Flip likes her,” Josephine said without hesitation. Anne let go of the breath she found herself holding.

The smile Phillip gave his sister proved that it would be impossible for anyone to replace her in his affections. “Perhaps one day, Josephine, but for now, this is the way things will have to be. I wish it were different.”

Lilian began to cry. Her mother circled her into an embrace and tried to press comforting lips to her temple, but the girl turned away. Phillip looked miserable as Josephine’s stubbornness gave way to tears. Quieter than her sister’s, they were no less wrenching to witness.

Mrs. Carlyle looked up at her son. Her long face was heavy with grief. “Your mind is still made up then?” she asked, her voice fragile with emotion.

Phillip looked down at his sister held against his side. Chin and lips trembling, he placed a lingering kiss on her hair. “Yes. I hope you find it in your heart to apologize to Anne before you go.”

Back rigid, face and lips pale, Mrs. Carlyle replied, “I thought you would want to come home.”

Phillip shook his head. “I told you, Mother. I don’t want any part of the place you insist on. My place is by Anne.” He kissed his sister again and gently wiped away some of the tears running down her face.

His mother looked over all of her children and then at Anne who met her icy blue gaze with curiosity. Anne had experienced enough cruel outbursts like Mrs. Carlyle’s to know that they often contained a combination of what the person believed about her and what they believed or knew about themselves. The less they knew about her, the more of themselves they revealed. Mrs. Carlyle was a hurt and bitter woman but that hurt had not begun with Anne.

The woman looked away quickly, and Anne glanced at Phillip. Before last summer, she would not have dared to put Mrs. Carlyle in her place, much less interrupt her. Had they met on the street instead of Phillip’s house today, she would have walked away without a word. The servants who slowly found other positions, the newest books and plays on his library shelves by colored writers, the thin newspaper she glimpsed beneath his normal paper that she’d thought was a colored publication. Even the way her favorite chairs ended up in the array of frequently used furniture. Without a word to her, Phillip had transformed his home to be a place where she did not have to fit in but that fit her.

“I don’t want to go!” Lilian broke away from her mother to run to Phillip. She threw her arms around her brother and buried her face in his chest. With his sisters’ heads on each of his shoulders, he stroked their hair until their sobbing quieted. Lilian wiped her face and nose on his shirt. Phillip held onto her like she would be yanked away if he did not hold her tight enough.   

Anne did not know what to do with herself as she watched the heartbroken circle they formed. Nor did their mother it seemed. A storm of emotions brewed across her face, but she remained silent. Perhaps she thought her daughters had the best chance of changing her son’s mind.  

Josephine dragged her sleeve down her cheek. The fierce determination in her features made her look more like the woman she would be soon than the girl she was. Even with tousled hair and tear-tracked cheeks, she was self-possessed when she spoke. “I understand, Phillip.”

“Thank you,” he said softly. Lilian hiccuped and blinked at her sister. Mrs. Carlyle’s cheeks flared red, but Josephine didn’t waver.

“Me too,” Lilian hiccuped finally. “And I’m sorry, Anne.” Uncertain of what to say with their mother looking on, Anne settled for nodding her acknowledgment.

All of this was too much for Mrs. Carlyle. She placed her hand to her mouth and then brought it away to clutch her broach. “So many times, your father warned me I was coddling you. He told me over and over that I was being too forgiving. He was right. I made a mistake to come. Our coats, then.”

Phillip beckoned, and Crispin and Abel entered with the requested clothes. Josephine refused to look at her mother. Lilian glanced at each of them anxiously as if hoping someone would break the stalemate. However, in the stark silence where the rustling of their outerwear made the loudest noise, it was clear that whatever goodbye she chose would have to sustain her for a very long time.

Phillip hugged and kissed his sisters twice each before their mother gathered them under her arms and hurried them out. Phillip slumped against the archway, but Anne watched them proceed down the walkway. Mrs. Carlyle did not look back, but Lilian and Josephine craned their necks around.

“They want to see you,” Anne told him gently. She helped Phillip to the doorway so that he could wave as his sisters were urged into their carriage and whisked away, their arms and hands waving back frantically from the windows.

Phillip slumped against her so heavily Anne’s shoulder nearly gave out. Shifting his weight, she maneuvered him into an embrace. His arms wrapped around her tightly, and he buried his face in her neck. He was trembling. His breath hit her skin in quick, hot bursts. She thought he might cry. Anne certainly wanted to, but this was Phillip’s moment. Careful of his ribs, she held him with everything she had.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “Are you okay, Anne?”

Taking stock of herself, she realized that she was shaking from her encounter with Mrs. Carlyle. Never had she spoken so scathingly or unguardedly to a woman of her status and race. It was usually more prudent to keep her mouth shut despite what was doled out to her. 

“Do you want to go?" Phillip asked anxiously. "I’ll understand."

She made a dissenting noise in the back of her throat. “No. I want to stay.”

His lips curved against her neck. “Good. You were magnificent standing up to Mother. I wish I could have made it down the stairs faster to send her away, but you were a sight to behold.” He held her closer and ran a soothing hand up and down her back.

She was supposed to be comforting him. “What about Josephine and Lily?” she asked softly.

Phillip lifted his head so that he could look her in the eye. Anne noticed for the first time that he was not fully dressed yet. Although he wore his jacket and vest, the latter was unbuttoned and his necktie hung undone under his collar. Knowing that his hand bothered him with too much movement, she set about doing these for him. Phillip followed the movement of her deft fingers winding his necktie into a knot before sighing heavily. “What can I do? The best I could hope for was that they understood. They still need my parents, especially Josephine who wants to study at college.”

“There are colleges for women?” Anne exclaimed, distracted again from her attempt to comfort him.

“A few.”

“What do they teach?”

“Apparently, most of the subjects that they do at other universities.”

Anne marveled at this discovery as she finished buttoning Phillip’s vest and smoothed his necktie into place. Phillip caught her hand, interrupting her thoughts. “Thank you,” he told her.

Reminded of her initial purpose, she placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry about your sisters, Phillip.” 

“Hurting them is my one regret in all of this, but it doesn’t change my mind about what I did.” Phillip breathed deeply. “Your hair smells divine. It’s so soft.” He buried his nose in her tresses, tickling her ear.

“Something Cecelia used to get rid of the smell.”

“Ask her what it is,” he murmured against her ear. “I’ll buy an entire stock of it. If you’ll use it, that is.”

Anne could feel him leaning more heavily on her. She enjoyed the sensation of his weight pressing into her but knew that it meant he’d been on his feet too long for his injuries. Reluctantly, she extracted her fingers from his. “Let’s get you back upstairs before you hurt yourself more. It’s been a long morning.”  

With her help and a heavy grip on the banister, he was able to make it as far as the drawing room on the second floor. Coughing, he collapsed onto the sofa and pulled Anne down with him. He rested his head against the seat’s back as he caught his breath. Anne pressed close so that she could fit beside him. Phillip lifted her legs over his to keep her from tipping off the sofa. He let his arm stay draped over her thighs. Somehow, the way he held her felt as intimate as any of their kisses. Tentatively, she rested her head on his velvet clad shoulder and was rewarded when he kissed first her forehead and then the top of her hair.

“You don’t know what it meant for me to wake up after everything and see your face, Anne,” he told her. “I never want to forget or lose that feeling.” Anne snuggled closer to him, grateful for his attempt to reassure her and trying to offer her own comfort in return.

Held tenderly but firmly in the circle of Phillip’s arms, she tried to let go of what happened earlier. Nothing was left unsaid on her part or his mother’s and, although Mrs. Carlyle left without an apology, everyone knew clearly where they stood. Perhaps there was peace in that.

They were quiet for a long time until Phillip breathed out heavily through his nose. “PT came to talk to me this morning.” She could tell from his tone that this visit was also not particularly pleasant. “It’s worse than I thought. Jenny Lind broke her contract. There’s no more tour and no more circus. He didn’t tell me—he put up his house as collateral for the tour loan. The bank has repossessed it and seized all of his assets. He has nothing left.”

Anne’s heart thudded heavily at the implications of this news. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. “What do you mean by Jenny Lind broke her contract?”

Phillip ran a hand over his hair. “He wouldn’t go into detail. He just said they had a falling out, and she refused to give any more performances. She’s gone back to Europe. He wasn’t going to see any profit until after the forty-first show, and he had to buy all the seats and pay her in advance.” 

“What does this mean?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Phillip’s eyebrows knit in a scowl. “It means PT is ruined. He has no way to rebuild the circus.”

Anne gripped the lapel of his jacket. The muscles in Phillip’s jaw twitched with tension. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. The future he’d given his old life up for was gone. And what about her and WD? How would they be able to stay in the city if they couldn’t find other circus work? And what of their friends? Would Lettie have to go back to being a laundress, her powerful voice confined to a hidden corner? And what would become of Cecelia and Deng? They had all entrusted Barnum with their hopes, and this was how he’d repaid them. Without a thought for anyone but himself, he’d gambled away their home and future. Well, and his own too.

“What happens now?”

“He’ll go to the banks and ask for a loan.”

“Will they give it to him?”  

“Possibly. But the likelihood is slim. He’s ruined his credit, and he has no more collateral.” 

“And that’s it? We’ll have nothing?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

Phillip shook his head. “He has nothing. But I still have my ten percent cut. It was supposed to be for our elopement, if you ever agreed to marry me. I was going to take you on a grand tour of Europe to all of the greatest theaters and operas and museums. WD too, if he wanted to go. Before two days ago, I thought I had no use for it, but now…” he trailed off and his gaze fell. “That’s what I wanted it for anyway.”

A smile started across Anne’s lips, slow despite her racing heart. “So, if I agree not to marry you, you’ll give Barnum the money for the circus?”

“No! I mean…” Frantic, his eyes met hers. Seeing the amusement on her face, he relaxed some. “I didn’t mean that to be a proposal. I don’t have a ring or anything, and I want to do right by you.”

It was not a proposal, but his intentions were clear. He wanted to know what she wanted for the circus. And what she wanted for them. “What’s Europe, or anywhere, if we don’t have a home to come back to?”

“But you, you’d still marry me? If I gave the money to PT?”

Anne nearly laughed; he truly was concerned on this point. “On two conditions.” Phillip raised an eyebrow. “First, I have to like the proposal. And second, you can tell PT he has the money but you have to be the one to manage it.”

The way his tongue peaked through his teeth and the blue of his eyes seemed to deepen when he smiled at her answer almost convinced her to say ‘yes’ to marrying him right then. However, although everything else in her was spinning in euphoric cartwheels, her common sense managed to ground her. Barely. Two days ago, as he’d reminded her, they’d had no future together. Just because things changed did not mean they needed to go speeding in the other direction. She wanted time to become used to the idea. WD needed time. Perhaps most importantly the circus needed to recover.

“Deal,” he agreed. Because neither of them could stop grinning widely, their teeth bumped when he tried to kiss her.

“Ow!” Anne complained, rubbing her gums. Laughing, he touched his forehead and nose to hers instead. Anne lightly touched his jaw. She was proud of him and of who he’d become. Kissing his chin, she told him, “Barnum may have all the dreams, but you’re the one who’s kept them alive.”

He tipped his head, and his smile grew sly. “Not _all_ the dreams. I’ve had a few of my own.”

Anne arched an eyebrow. Phillip stared at her for a moment. Then he drew her in so he could whisper in her ear. Her face burned, but Phillip didn’t stop at words. His thumb stroked a chord behind her ear and down her neck that unsteadied her breath. Every one of her nerves quivered in anticipation.  

Checking to make sure they were alone, she pushed herself up and swung one leg over his lap so that she straddled him. Her curls draped forward and brushed his cheek. Phillip’s hand skimmed up her leg and curled around her thigh. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The intensity and hunger in his face almost scared her. “That’s not what I meant,” she said roughly. Why couldn’t her voice work properly?

Anne’s breath hitched when his fingertips brushed her neck as he gathered back her hair so he could kiss his way along her collarbone. He worked his way up past the collar of her dress to flesh. His thumb tilted her head back. Thoughts in her head sparked and shorted until her wild heart beat drowned them out altogether. Everything in her swooped and soared at the mercy of his lips on her neck and the pressure of his fingers on her leg.  

"I know," he whispered when he came to her ear. "But it seem I still have some convincing to do to get you to marry me. I'm up for the challenge. Injured as I am." Anne was not ready to concede on marriage, but for the moment, he'd won her over in another way. Her lips seized his, demanding satisfaction for the havoc he'd wreaked on her pulse and the molten abyss of desire his kisses dangled her over. Phillip was all too willing to be held accountable.

A week later, Phillip insisted on joining their efforts to sift through the debris. Anne argued until he reminded her that it was the day Barnum met with the last bank. All the others had already told him “no.” Laughed even.

“You won’t be much help,” she said, looking him over critically. Moving around was getting easier for him, but he could not bend in half. Stairs were still a challenge but he could finally manage on his own. Most of the bruises on his face were fading except for the stubborn black eye. Anne ran careful fingers over the abrasion on his forehead. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I feel like I’ve been missing out,” he complained good-naturedly. In truth, they both knew how much he enjoyed having her dote on him during his convalescence.

She smiled wryly. “I meant with your money. Barnum’s far past being given a second or even a third chance.”

“It’s not for him.” He touched her mane of curls. He never seemed to get enough of them.

“You could start your own circus,” she insisted.

“Perhaps one day but not for now.” He kissed her cheek. “Have you changed your mind?”

Abel arrived in the foyer with her coat. Phillip thanked him and took it so that he could be the one to help her into it. “No. It’s the right the right thing to do. Even if I don’t think he deserves it.” They needed Barnum’s name recognition if they wanted to relaunch the circus with any hope of attracting the crowds that had once filled their arena. She lifted her hair out of the neck of her coat. 

“With your blessing then.” Phillip caught her up for a final peck on her lips before he took her hand and led her out to the waiting carriage.

The morning was unusually cold, and Anne was grateful to see that Constantine and Deng were feeding a fire in the drum they’d recovered a few days before. Anne was hardly out of the carriage before WD was hurrying haphazardly across the debris to help Phillip out. The two men gripped hands. “Good to see you up and about,” WD said warmly.

“It’s good to be out even though this is worse than I’d expected.” Phillip took in the fire’s destruction for himself, his face unreadable.

“You’ll get used to it soon enough,” Lettie called from her perch atop what had once been the entryway. Under her cloak, her skirt and blouse were already streaked with soot.

Midway through the morning, Anne discovered one of her hoops. She crouched to shift away the charred bricks and splinters. Despite the heat its shape was intact, although all of its gilding was gone. Elated, she lifted it free and held it up. It was like coming across an old friend.

She looked around to find Phillip standing beside her. “Well, it’s something,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anything.” He held the hoop for her while she continued to sift through the area.

“PT’s here,” he told her. Anne looked over her shoulder toward the street. Barnum made his way toward them, his expression growing grimmer as he came closer. She stood brushing the dust from her hands. Phillip handed her hoop back to her.

Barnum said nothing as he wandered through the motley crew he’d brought together with little more than a promise of a place where they could be themselves. She and Phillip exchanged a look. Either Barnum was about to surprise them or there was no money coming. Everyone went quiet, waiting for his news.

Anne leaned on her hoop as Phillip turned toward his partner. “Bank said no?” he called loudly to break the ringmaster's stalling.

Barnum huffed. “Emphatically.” He turned toward Phillip. “Repeatedly.” He pivoted so that his back was to the wreckage of his fantasies and follies and surveyed all of them. His mouth, normally quirked rakishly, remained a thin, subdued line. “I don’t think there’s a banker left in the country I can fool into loaning me more money, so…” Barnum turned back to Phillip and with rare remorse, he apologized. “I’m really sorry to disappoint you all.”

Anne thought disappointment was an understatement. Eng and Chang leaned into one another. Vasily, towering over everyone, crossed his arms. Alec, crouched by his side, did not even bother to look up from the scrap of poster he was trying to clear of soot. Anne glanced back at those gathered around the fire. Constantine hooked his thumbs into his high waisted pants and Deng watched through narrowed eyes. No one appeared all too surprised by this most recent failure, although they all knew what it meant for their future.

Charles turned over the burnt miniature Napoleon in his hands, the inspiration for his costume and nightly ride around the ring. “Don’t worry, Barnum. We’ve gotten used to it by now,” he quipped. Lettie laughed loudest but there were other chuckles and some of the tension among them eased. The former ringmaster had the grace to look chastised.

Phillip brushed his hands off. “You know, Barnum,” he said, gingerly making his way over to his partner, “when I first met you, I had an inheritance, acclaim, an invitation to every party in town. And now, thanks to you, all that’s gone.” Barnum grimaced. The ground under her feet dipped and shifted, and Anne looked around to find WD at her side.

“He’s being awful generous,” WD muttered so only she could hear. Anne pursed her lips. She agreed, but Phillip had a way of being able to see the worst in people while still believing in their best. It was a rare balance that she loved in him.

“All that’s left is friendship, love, and work that I adore,” Phillip continued. “You brought joy into my life.”

“Into all our lives,” Lettie interrupted, and Anne found herself nodding in agreement. 

“Hear, hear!” The others called. Anne’s smile softened. For all Barnum could be a self-interested, fast-talking, manipulative jerk, he had given each of them something to believe in and a door to the dreams they’d buried deep within themselves. Even his recklessness and greed could not undo that, though she hoped he’d learned his lesson.

Looking slightly less morose than when he arrived, Barnum glanced around him. “If only the banks would take joy as collateral,” he tried to joke.

Phillip slid his hands into his pockets. “They may not,” he offered, “but I will.” Barnum swung around incredulously. “I own 10 percent of the show,” Phillip reminded him. “Knowing who I was working for, I had the good sense to take my cut weekly.”

And for once, Barnum said something wholly true. “Phillip, I can’t let you gamble it on me.”

Anne knew he would take the offer Phillip was about to give him. “Sure you can.”

Lettie laughed. “Don’t turn sensible on us now,” she insisted. Barnum threw her a dirty look only making her cackle harder.

“Partners,” said Phillip, recalling his attention. “Fifty-fifty.” Barnum hesitated as a grin worked its way across his face. There was no cunning behind it, only a man hardly able to believe his good fortune. Phillip stuck out his hand, and Barnum took it.

WD clapped Anne on the shoulder. She smiled up at him as a wave of relief washed over all of them, soon followed by laughter and cheers. They would have to move the circus down to the docks to be able to afford to get it up and running again, but Anne had no doubt that Barnum and Phillip would find a way to make it work. The rest of what the partners said to one another was swallowed up in the noise of everyone’s celebration. Barnum lifted Phillip’s hand in the air to wild applause and whistling. As the others swarmed him, Phillip glanced around for her.

Anne hung back, hoop still in hand. Even knowing the outcome of today before Phillip’s announcement did not diminish the effervescent feeling of joy that swept through her as she watched everyone hug one another and even shed a few tears, which Deng hid in her coat sleeve and Thomas wept shamelessly. 

Phillip ducked his way out of the melee to come to her side. She offered an arm that he took gratefully to steady himself. “This is how I would want to spend the rest of my life with you, Anne.”

She glanced around for WD. He was off tipping back a flask in celebration with Constantine.

“Standing on top of a burnt-up building in the cold?” she joked, turning back to Phillip.

He wrinkled his nose, not appreciating that she was breaking the moment he was trying to create. “Making people see the impossible is coming true. And maybe, hopefully, things will change. I don’t think it will be tomorrow, the next day, or even a decade from now. But we have to start somewhere.”

Anne twined her fingers through his. “I guess a circus is as good a place as any.” She leaned into Phillip, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him. Everyone was too caught up in their own exuberance to notice them. “It’s a good way to spend the rest of our lives.”

Phillip gently brushed her hair aside so that he could kissed her temple. “I love you, Anne.”

Lettie noticed them then, standing off on their own. She clutched her beard, and for a second, Anne thought she might call out. Instead, a smug look came over her face. No doubt there would be questions later. But for now, she turned away with a lusty wink.

Anne giggled. Everyone would know soon enough, if they didn’t already suspect. “I love you too, Phillip.”

Anne accompanied WD to the train station to see him off two weeks later. Cecelia came with them. The platform was warm from the steam coughing engines and press of travelers. It was the first time Anne would ever be apart from her brother, and she poured all of her worries for him into the hug she gave him.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” she warned, stepping back. “Especially down in Washington.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted.   

“WD!”

“I promise. I’ll be smart.” He looked handsome in his new suit, one he’d made himself. “Take care of yourself, Anne.”

She pulled an envelope from her bag and handed it to him. “Phillip wanted me to give you this. Yes, it’s funds. He said you can use it or not, and if you won’t accept it from him, at least take it from me to give me some peace of mind. I would feel better knowing you had this if you needed it.” WD hesitated. Anne pressed it into his hand. “Phillip included a note verifying that the sum belongs to you.”

“I’ll keep it, just in case. Tell him thank you for me.” He glanced down at her left hand. “I thought he’d be quick about getting around to asking you to marry him after I gave him my blessing.”

Embarrassed, Anne shoved the hand in her shawl. Cecelia rolled her eyes at WD. “Watch yourself WD,” Cecelia said, shaking his hand.

The conductor’s shout rang out. “Last call for Newark, Trenton, Philadelphia, Wilmington, Baltimore, Washington DC and onward. All aboard!”

“Good luck,” Anne called as WD scrambled up the steps of the train with his canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

He waved back and then disappeared into the crowded car. She lost sight of him, but still she waved as the train chugged out of the station until it was but a small dot moving farther and farther away. Silently, she wished him luck again. 

Arm in arm, she and Cecelia made their way home. Anne was sure Phillip meant to propose eventually but most of his attention was preoccupied with getting the circus up and running on the plot of land that he’d purchased not far from the docks. He and Barnum wanted everything in operation before the end of spring, which was fast approaching. Of course, once settled on relocating the show to a tent, Barnum wanted one bigger than any that had been used before. This caused a number of fits and starts with construction until Phillip cajoled an architect he knew who’d worked on the 1853 World’s Fair to help. 

Phillip had also found a way to pay everyone through the circus' reopening by enlisting them to recruit acts and crew and train them. He and Barnum wanted to present something more wondrous than anything their audience had seen from them before. Without a building, they staged impromptu performances throughout the city, drawing crowds and earnings along the way.   

Anne looked up at the clear sky overhead. For the first time, she and WD had a place of their choosing to call home for good. They could look beyond tomorrow and next month to shape their lives while doing something they loved. The feeling was intoxicating. It was time for the runaways to run the night.

Phillip was waiting for her on their street with hansom. "WD made it off?" he asked when they neared.

"On his way," Anne confirmed. "With the money you sent. He says thank you."

"Good," he grinned.

Cecelia let go of Anne's arm. "I thought you had work to be doing, Carlyle?" she teased.

"I do, but I thought Anne might be interested in joining me. You're welcome to come too."

Cecelia waved them off. "Thank you, but I have things to do."

"Are you sure, Cece?" Anne suspected the tent was finished and that's what Phillip wanted to show her.

"Yes. I just want to be the first to know." She winked and headed up to their room. Anne watched her go with a sigh. Was everyone convinced Phillip was going to propose at any moment?

If Phillip had the same sense, he did not let on as he helped her into the vehicle and directed the driver to the docks. The site for the new circus was slightly north of where the ships came in to load and unload their goods. For weeks, the plot had been filled with carpenters, wagons of lumber, and men calling out as they erected towering poles in the ground.

All that was gone. In their place was an enormous, round tent of gold and red. A red pennant atop the crown of the structure flapped proudly in the breeze. Anne gasped and leaned so far out of the hansom, that Phillip grabbed her elbow for fear she'd fall out.

"You can let us off here," he called to the driver. While he paid, Anne tried to take in the size of what stood before her. It was nearly as tall as the building on Broadway and far wider. "Watch your skirt," Phillip warned before they stepped off the sidewalk. The ground was not as firm as it looked and her feet sank into it. "The almanac predicted rain, and we wanted to get the tent up before it came last night," Phillip explained. She followed him through the mud. It was quiet but for the faint noises that drifted on the wind from the docks. Evening was approaching and the men must have gone home for the night.

Although it seemed to her that the tent had no opening, Phillip found the panel easily. He drew it back to let them in, and Anne gasped again. The interior felt even bigger than the tent looked on the outside. Instead of one ring, there was a giant one surrounded by several others, all enclosed by a low wall. Phillip pointed out where the seats would go for the audience and behind those the fly system for her and all the aerialists. He led her through the dimming light to the other side where they emerged through a short passageway into what looked like the beginnings of very tiny town. This was where the animals would be kept, supplies for the circus stored, the dressing rooms for the men and women performers provided. Right now, these buildings were skeletons. The only complete one was the office from where Phillip and Barnum ran everything.

"What do you think?" Phillip asked nervously as Anne spun slowly to take in the full breadth of everything at once.

"Anything must be possible," she breathed in awe.

Phillip laughed, his eyes bright in the fading light around them. He took her hand and pulled her to him so that he could cradle her face. "If you can believe that, Anne Wheeler, anyone can." Phillip kissed her, and as Anne brought her arms up around him, she felt herself bursting with a dream of the future before them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue "At the Beginning" from the Anastasia credits!! "We were strangers, starting out on a journey/Never dreaming, what we'd have to go through/Now here we are, I'm suddenly standing/ At the beginning with you." I know you might have been looking for a proposal, and I'm so sorry. Maybe I will write that as a stand alone. Anne and Phillip just didn't feel quite ready at the end of this, and I didn't want to drag it on just to stage one. But obviously, Phillip is going to propose, Anne will say yes, and they will live with quite a few difficulties, no few misunderstandings, but with all the love and friendship with which they've surrounded themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a little love for Anne and Phillip! And me? Until next time.


End file.
